Elderstar - Book One: The Red Prince
by Freya Thorine
Summary: Aesir is the fabled Red Prince of the mariner kingdom of Eutrusia. When a prophesy and a curse on him are brought to light, will he have the courage to defy the Fates? The first book of three epics depicting the life of one of Redwall's most mysterious references: Martin the Elder Warrior.
1. Author's Note

**Author's Note**

Well, this is a pleasant surprise, isn't it? I hope it is for most.

I know what some of you are thinking – up, down, up, down – but here it is UP to stay. Originally, I did take this one down because I was going to rework it into a complete original work; but then, as I was editing book two, I started to remember all the cool tie-ins and explanations I had for the Redwallian world, and it kind of made me sad to think they would never be shared. Not only that, while writing _The Lilymaid_ I was also noticing things that are truly important to the tale, were not so significant because this story was lacking. All in all, I made the decision to reinstate the story of Martin the Elder Warrior to the Redwall FanFic Archive.

My one regret (if regret is the right word) on reposting this is I lost all of the valuable reviews which readers left on the original work. In this version, you will see I took a lot of the critique and comments to heart, working and improving the diction. So, I'd like to acknowledge them with a quick thank-you now to all those who reviewed the original: Lady Storm, minkspit, Jade Tealeaf, Blackish, Shadowed One 19, lilianofoceanna, MrDill, Thomas the Traveller, Hamlet and koryandrs.

I hope you enjoy _Elderstar, Book One: The Red Prince_. There will be two subsequent books posted as I edit them up: _Book Two: Banners High_ and _Book Three: The Elder Warrior._

Cheers and sharp quills,

_Freya Thorine_

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything (i.e. characters, locations) pertaining to the Redwall series written by Brian Jacques. All original characters, places and circumstances, are my own.**


	2. Introduction

**Elderstar  
****_Book One: The Red Prince_**

* * *

_If we listen we will hear the words,  
The wind whispers through the trees.  
Creaking branches, calling birds,  
It floats across the lea.  
Often times its missed,  
Beheld an aspect of the scene.  
Never once considered,  
The lives it watches, fables seen.  
Gentle zephyrs, blustery gales,  
Each mood a different song.  
Unless it tells of one lost tale,  
Of the right that he made wrong._

* * *

**Introduction**

The dory rowed ashore while the merchant ship bobbed at anchor in the quay. Eleven creatures sat between eight otters wielding the oars, fidgeting with excitement and relief to be off the vessel and almost to land. The twelfth traveller, however, sat at the rear of the boat; silent and unapproachable. Beneath his dark cloak, the mouse had his fingers woven together across his chest as he leaned against the stern, his elbows resting on the trim.

"E'ery beast jus' stay seated until we beach," a senior sailor named Arvad barked from the stem when a couple of the enthusiastic beasts half rose from their planked seats. With one footpaw on the bow and arms folded high over his chest, the aging otter twisted around to face the group. "We stayed dry this long – let's keep it that way."

They obliged. Sitting down and straight-backed as if afraid even the act of breathing would upset the boat – especially the squirrels. The old salt chuckled lightly as he observed them bristling their tails and keeping only their clawtips on the bottom of the hull; although, his brief merriment faltered when he glanced upon the twelfth passenger. He had an uneasy feeling about the mouse from the moment he laid a footpaw on the ramp to board, but the captain had been too blinded by the trinket used as voyage payment to worry about the creature they were bringing on board. The solid gold bracelet was worth more coin than their ship and one could only assume from its feminine scrolling and diamond details, the mouse with his cloak pulled down over his eyes was some sort of thief or assassin making a getaway. However, throughout the entire journey, the mouse had been as he was then; wordless, faceless… nameless.

The dory cut through the final wakes and furrowed its keel into the wet sand. The rowers put up their oars while the front four otters jumped into the shallows and dragged them up higher on the beach by the lines. Arvad leapt ashore once they stopped and assessed the area for danger, gesturing the others to unload when he was certain no surprise attacks would spring up on them. After all, they did all pay for safe passage.

"A'right, ya lot," Arvad announced with a slight smile. "Ya c'n come off now – an' welcome to the country o' Southsward!"

"This is s'posed ta be Orston Port," a squirrel chirped up. "Ya were s'posed to make berth in Orston."

"Plans change," the otter replied and gave the cloaked mouse a cagey glance. Plans did change… for a price. "We aren't far off Orston – ya c'n get there easy by followin' t' trail south."

One by one the travellers evacuated the small vessel; happily accepting directions to their destinations from the sailors. The mouse waited until all other were out before he rose from his seat and strode down the center of the oarbeasts. Without hesitation, he stepped up onto the edge and off onto the shore. He paused for but a moment, adjusting his haversack and belt from which hung a sword and scabbard.

"Know where yar going, mate?" Arvad questioned when a glimmer of sunlight reflected from the red pommel stone caught his eye. The mouse made no visible acknowledgement to the elder, though he uttered a word.

"Yes." The voice that responded was deep and hoarse from lack of use or still ailing from some sort of strain, like screaming for long periods of time or being choked until near death. Still, the guttural tone caused Arvad's uneasy feeling to elevate.

"Well, safe travels," he said quickly, giving the mouse a curt nod and striding back towards the rest of the crew and boat. The old sailor had only gone two paces when he felt a light paw on his upper arm. The otter turned to see the cloaked mouse standing directly behind him; still the creature's eyes were covered making it seem as if there were no soul housed within his body.

"If anybeast asks, I was never aboard your ship," he said, sternly. Reaching into his cloak, the mouse retrieved a small coin purse and placed it in the otter's palm. "And you didn't let me off here."

"Don't know who ya are even if I was asked, mate." _And that's the way I'd like to keep it._

"The wind whispers," the mouse replied. "The trees have ears and the shadows eyes. You never know what might be watching and listening, nor what they're telling and to whom." Closing Arvad's clawtips over the pouch, he said again, "I was never aboard your ship. You didn't let me off here. You never saw me."

Twice Arvad blinked, trying to link the ends together, before deeming them unreachable and giving the mouse a nod. The traveller's lips curled up at the corners into what could have been a pleasant smile if the upper half of his face were visible.

"Good," he responded and turned on his heel. Picking up a steady march, the mouse pushed his way through the others deciding on their courses and crossed the sands in determined strides. Arvad continued to watch the black cloak sway with its wearer's motion until the cloak, and the creature in it, disappeared amongst the trees.

"Who was t'at, Vaddy?" another sailor asked, drawing up even with the elder. Keeping his gaze on the break in the trees the mouse had vanished, he wrinkled his brow. "Who was t'at mouse?"

"Nobody," Arvad breathed and slipped the coin purse into his belt pouch when he felt a breeze kiss the side of his cheek. "There was nobody there."


	3. Prologue I

**Prologue I**

A regally clad mouse sauntered down the wide hallways of from the royal chambers in the western wing of Palace Vasilis. On his flank, a small entourage of scribes and pawbeasts walked behind him at respectful distance, conversing quietly amongst themselves, but keeping an open ear to any want the monarch made. Every beast they passed bowed or curtsied to the grand mouse and he in turn gave them each a brief nod of his crowned head in acknowledgement of their fealty to him as King of Eutrusia.

Descending the stairs to the next level, the king smirked to see a young mouse of fifteen seasons standing dutifully at the apex to the corridor leading to the royal libraries; himself also richly clothed and his servants standing quietly behind him. On his head, the mouse wore a simple rose-gold coronet signifying his station as Etifedd of Eutrusia, heir to the very crown his father wore on his head.

"Ah, Matthias!" announced the king when they neared the prince. "Able to tear yourself away from your studies for a council meeting, were you?"

"I was told this was one meeting I should not miss, Lord Father," Matthias replied formally and gave his father a slight bow due to his king and father. "After all, it is not every day I am betrothed."

"No, it's not," the king agreed and motioned for his son to walk with him. The prince's own servants fell into place along with his father's and the two royals proceeded down the hallway together. In their silence, the elder simpered at his son with a fiendish grin, "Interested to see who you get for a queen, are you?"

"I need to see how these things are done," the prince stated in a formal manner. "As you have already married off my royal sisters, it will be the only time I can view a proceeding such as this and I will need to know the dealings of it in the event when I must betroth my own son."

"Wisely put, Matthias," his father winked and held in a laugh. Always the diplomat, Matthias never failed to displayed proper discretion and tact in all stately matters – even one that should have at least sparked a hint of passion in his heart. The king had hoped to stir some of his son's suppressed emotions, but then Matthias was never one to let his heart rule his mind. Even when it came to which maiden would become his future consort.

Before the king could further the situation, a portly hedgehog dressed in a herald's garb trotted into the end of the hall. He stood still for but a moment, catching his breath and glancing down the passages anxiously before spotting both king and prince. Relief poured out his body with the lowering of his shoulders; a motion which brought attention to the pewter salver held in both his paws.

"Your Majesty!" he called and jogged towards them, his stout shadow eclipsing the light pouring in from the wall of leaded windows upon the flagstones and adjacent wall. "Your Majesty King Matteus," he gasped out, giving a hurried bow. "And Your Highness, Prince Matthias- I beg pardon, but the prophets bid me deliver you this letter with all speed, sire."

The king snatched the scroll from the tray and broke the seal to read the parchment. Matthias watched his father scan the missive with a wary eye. His movements had been quick, too quick for something to be unexpected. No, his father had been waiting for this seeing and Matthias could only assume it was about his impending betrothal.

"Ah, I thought so," King Matteus mused, a sly smile curling his lips as he stuffed the parchment into his richly embroidered green overrobe and waved the messenger off with a flick of his wrist. Without another word, the king continued their advance down the corridor towards the palace's Grand Gallery and Council Chambers.

"Lord Father," Matthias begun as they descended another flight of stairs and turned round a corner. "The missive from the prophets-"

"Only confirmed my decision on your future queen," the king said shortly. "It only affirmed my choice was the proper one."

"So, you have already picked one," Matthias reacted with a hint of annoyance. "Lord Father, you have not yet heard the other lords' proposals to make such a judgement."

"I do not need to hear them," Matteus snorted haughtily. "I am their king and overlord and you are my son. Whatever maid I choose will be Eutrusia's next queen.

"You will be _silent_ in all matters," the king continued to instruct his son as the high doors to the Grand Gallery came within sight. "Not one protest, Matthias. Is that clear?"

"It is my future wife," Matthias countered, frowning slightly. "Should I not have a say in which maid you have apparently already chosen?"

"No!" Matteus laughed and then stopped to turn a serious face to his son. Behind them, the servants halted as well and moved dutifully to the sides of the lavish décor. "Matthias, do you understand what is about to happen?"

"You are picking, or rather _have_ picked a noble lady to be my future Etifeddes," the prince replied and eyed his father suspiciously. "Although you sound like you are preparing for war."

The king smiled in slow, sly sort of manner, cementing the prince's suspicions his father was up to something; in his mind, the king was known for weaving grand webs of politics and prosperity – easily living up to his whispered nickname as 'The Spider.' Though he was not a tyrant and governed his realm according to Eutrusian law, he was a monarch each noble watched with a cautious eye. Many a beast had been raised high during the reign of King Matteus, but also plenty of good creatures had been cast down or shunned at court when they had found themselves unlucky enough to fall into the king's snares.

"Son, we are at an apex of a battlefield," Matteus proclaimed, laying a paw on Matthias's shoulder. "Inside that Grand Gallery is a horde of nobles that each have a daughter, granddaughter or some other family connection of age for a betrothal and unfortunately for all of them, I have only one son. Naturally, to choose one maiden out of the lot would cause all the fathers of those cast aside females to throw their heads back and howl."

"So, how did you choose?" Matthias questioned, raising an eyebrow. "How did you decide which maid would bring with her the less disruption?"

"I didn't."

"You didn't choose, or your choice will lead to protest?"

The king beheld his son for a moment, assessing him in the warm sunlight. Physically, he was like any other adolescent; growing, gangly and not filled out into his bones yet. But his mind was a different matter altogether. Behind Prince Matthias's blue eyes rested an abundance of knowledge and understanding that could rival a sage's. He could understand Matteus' reasoning, but whether or not he liked the idea would an entirely different matter. With a sigh, the king relented a vague ream of information.

"I've decided on a maid that will bring Eutrusia closer," Matteus firmed. "One whose marriage to you will make our kingdom stronger. Matthias, your future wife will bring a gift to our family greater than beauty or alliances ever could. She will bring with her courage and honour, and the love of the creatures. But above all she will endow our family with the beginnings of greatness."

Matthias exhaled slowly and gave his father a begrudging nod. The king still had not answered the prince's question, but Matthias would have to be content with the answer he was given. Besides, his father's mind was more than made up, so what did it matter if he was informed now or in council?

"Don't worry, Matthias!" Matteus laughed at the disgruntled look on his son's face. "She's a pretty maid. You're not going to want to blow out the candles on your wedding night!"

"Father-" Matthias groaned and blushed to a deep scarlet, embarrassed by the crass comment in the presence of their pawbeasts.

"Now, Matthias don't be self-conscious!" Matteus chortled and motioned them forward again with the tip of his head. "It'll be three seasons before you need to worry about putting a mouseling in her belly."

"Maybe if you would tell me who it is, I would be smiling instead of blushing," the prince grumbled under his breath.

"What was that, son?"

"Nothing, Lord Father."

At their approach, the footbeasts clasped the handles of the tall oaken doors, throwing them open while the herald announced the royals' entry into the Grand Gallery of royal palace.

"His Royal Majesty, King Matteus of Eutrusia and His Royal Highness, Prince Matthias Etifedd!"

All creatures present immediately sprang to attention and took a step backwards to bow or curtsy in reverence to their king and crowned prince; their motion akin to a receding tide, only instead of water and surf, radiant colours and glittering gems replaced the sea. Around the court, great tapestries hung from the north and south walls depicting the eras of past monarchs while the west side held a raised dais and royal thrones in front of a backdrop of clear windows overlooking the sea. All about gilded details added to the majesty of the hall as they glinted in both sunlight and the candlelight produced by three massive iron candelabrums suspended from the vaulted ceiling by heavy chains.

Making their way through the crowd towards Council Chambers off the southern side of the gallery, both king and prince nodded in acknowledgement at the greetings and addresses uttered as they passed. By the time they reached the doors, their contingent had grown beyond their own personal servants to include Eutrusia's four state barons as well as a troupe of chancellors, appointed advisors and royal administrators.

When they were almost at their destination, a stately mousemaid stepped in their path and performed a low curtsy.

"Your Majesty, Your Highness," she greeted, her yellow gown fanning out around her like the sun. Matthias grinned at her interruption, although his father looked upon her with acute scrutiny, giving her leave to stand with a few quick flicks of his fingers. Rising, the female gave them a warm smile and said. "It's good to see you again, Father. Brother."

Matthias opened his mouth to receive his elder sibling, when the king cut him off before a word could escape his lips.

"Dellia," he said in almost a cold manner. "What are you doing at Vasilis? Should you not be at Naesbrey Manor?"

"I wished to be here to witness my brother's betrothal ceremonies," she replied. "My Lord Aarod allowed me to accompany him."

"Yes, but you should be at your homestead relaxing and _reproducing_ for your husband," the king sneered, focusing his sight on her flat stomach which held no hint of past or present pregnancy. The princess flushed at the public reprimand, but did not lower her head in shame.

"We will discuss this later, Dellia," Matteus informed her in a low growl as he walked past her to the council room. She tipped her head in acknowledgement and stood back to allow the others to pass as well. Matthias exchanged her a sympathetic look for her weak smile and went to speak to her when a mouse greater than their father's own age placed a wrinkled paw on her shoulder, starting her slightly. The prince narrowed his eyes at the pair; his sister's arranged marriage was nothing more than a political alliance devoid of anything that could be considered felicity. It angered him that she had been used as a pawn, but such was the life of royal offspring and here he was on the apex of his own _arrangement._

Again, the royals waited as the footbeasts opened the doors, and once the council had assembled inside the chambers, the king motioned to for them to take their places around the large slate table depicting an intricate map of Eutrusia carved into the tabletop.

"My Lords!" King Matteus addressed them all as he settled himself into the seat of honour. "What say you on this fair day?"

Raising his jewelled paw in the air, the monarch gestured for the servants to bring forth the wine from where it rested with the silver goblets upon the lavish sideboards. Quickly, the serving beasts saw to the task and within moments, every council member was equipped with cup and drink, before they retired back to their places along the wall where they stood, hearing and seeing nothing.

"You find us well, Your Majesty," Baron Milan of Nilhand replied with a smile. Taking a drink from his goblet, the aging squirrel nodded to Matthias. "And we are most excited to be discussing the future of our Etifedd."

Matteus chuckled at the graces of the northern baron. He knew Milan was pressing for a northern match in hopes of quelling the rebellious nature of his state. Secluded amongst their mountains and dense forests, the creatures of Nilhand were not always receptive to monarchical rule, and in Milan's mind, a direct alliance with the crown would give the northerners the inclusion they desired to be recognized as part of the realm and not just 'the north.' Yet for the king it was a moot point. The only noble maiden of consequence from the state that could be considered was Syr Garrion's third daughter, Lady Faline, and though rumoured to be a prettyish sort, her elder sisters had proved fruitless in their marriages. The baron must think him a daft mouse indeed to saddle his son, and his kingdom, with a match with potential sterility.

"I am glad to hear it," the king responded. "My Lords, I hope you do not object, but to make this task less tiresome, I had Lord Tatium prepare a list of eligible maidens so we may just run through them quickly."

A vole snapped up from his seat, nearly toppling the chair back behind him in his haste. Giving a slight stumble over his footpaws, Lord Tatium approached the king; nervously bowing before placing the long sheet of parchment before him on the table.

"As you wished it to be, Your Majesty," he bumbled out, backing away and turning to his seat with an exhaled release of stress.

"Good Seasons, Tatium- did you all but measure their hips!" Matteus jested with the vole chancellor and turned the parchment slightly so Matthias could see the list. The callow noble pushed his spectacles up on his snout and fluttered his paws about the slate while he thought of a plausible retort.

"I categorized them as Your Majesty asked of me," the vole stammered out. "Name, age, family, estates, average number of offspring generated from their mothers of the last three generations…"

The king rolled his eyes at the bumbler. "It was a complement, Tatium, not a criticism." Tapping his index clawtip on the stone, he added, "Learn to distinguish between the two."

"Yes, sire."

"An average of six offspring from the Lady Ulyssa," King Matteus crowed over the din and gave Baron Neron of Eurus, the most powerful of Eutrusian lords, a nod one would have thought was in kind. "She has an impressive forecasted ability at reproduction, Baron Neron."

"Not only is her beauty incomparable, but Ulyssa comes from a fertile line, Your Majesty," Neron smirked and didn't try to hide his pride. "My daughter would serve her country well between the sheets."

"And you think she could give my son six children?" Matteus said slyly and leaned back on his chair to eye the council beasts. Matthias watched his father carefully from the corner of his eye. The spider had felt the lines of his web move and he watched the fly dance upon the threads from the shadows.

"I do," Neron replied in haste, his pride blinding him to the snare of the spider. "And all Etifedds, I wager."

The council buzzed in anticipation of a match; the members conversing quietly to one another and nodding their approval. Matthias swallowed a lump of eagerness climbing into his throat, not over the potential match, but for the spider's strike; and like any true hunter, his father waited until his prey was thoroughly stuck before revealing himself from his hiding place.

"And what else?" Matteus pressed and eyed all of his council members before settling his gaze on Neron directly. "Any of these maids should be able to squeeze out a babe and it is immaterial if she has one mouseling or twenty. Only one can be crowned an Etifedd. Only one can be a future king. What else will a maid such as Lady Ulyssa bring to my royal household?"

"I am not sure what you mean, Your Majesty," the baron said in guarded tones, his eyes narrowing in dislike of the deception. "She brings beauty, noble blood and ability to breed…"

"Lips, tips and hips," Matteus sniped, thwacking the list with the back of his paw. "What else?"

"Lady Relinn from Grossen Keep in Wesrus has a pleasant singing voice," the Baron of Wesrus piped up thinking that he knew what the king was getting at. "We have heard her perform many pieces when she visits Arvendon Castle."

"Yes, and the only reason why I won't think her a mole is that I know she is your granddaughter, Edwen," Matteus retorted as he pretended to read the parchment again. "What about the maid Valina?"

The room went slight as a tomb. The nobles looked amongst themselves, trying to decipher from a neighbour who this mention could be and where she was affiliated. The only ones who showed a glimmer of recognition were the two guards standing at attention by the door. Matthias watched as they both gaped at each other and then straightened up once more before their break of protocol was noticed. Still, the faint smile on their lips and excited grips on their spears were not lost in the prince's eye.

"Valina?" Lord Tatium questioned aloud, though every council member was thinking it. "To which lady do you refer to, Your Majesty?"

"Maid Valina," Matteus said again, a hint of frustration in his tone. "Captain Martin and Dame Branlin's daughter."

Again thunderous hush collapsed on the room, the tension pressing against the walls at the king's statement.

"_Captain Martin's daughter_?" Baron Crar repeated. The Seldorian otter baron glanced about the table at the astonished faces before raising an eyebrow at the king's suggestion. "She's a, well, a…"

"She is a commoner," Matthias blurted out, gaining an instant glare from his father. "Valina is just the daughter of an army commander."

"His Highness is correct, Your Majesty," Baron Neron said quickly over the hubbub rising in the room. "Captain's Martin's daughter would never be included on a list with…"

Matteus tapped his index claw in the air. Whether it was for silence or in action of checking off an imaginary list, the creatures all quieted down as their king sovereign took up a quill and ink. "There," he said plainly, tossing aside the quill after his scratching on the parchment was complete. "Now, she's on the list."

Matthias could only stare at his father. What was he doing?

"Your Majesty, your son must wed a maid of noble birth…" Baron Milan stressed cautiously, but halted his statement at the challenging gaze of the king. "I mean, Captain Martin is not even at court to receive your proposal…"

"Martin is the Captain of the Royal Guard and his family has held the title since its inception in the founding days," the king said defensively. "Countless times he has proven his quality worthy of any lord protecting our hides from danger.

"Send for him," Matteus commanded a footbeast closet to the door, pushing away the parchment and motioning for his personal scribes to set down a large scroll of papyrus prepared for the official betrothal signings. Everybeast was so immersed in the situation, they did not notice the king give a slight nod and two other servants slip through the doors as well.

Matthias gaped at the prepared nature of the document; its words already drafted with Valina's name and meagre lineage inked onto the sheet next to his own exalted bloodline. His father had not been jesting when he had said he made his decision. The prince sighed deeply. Whatever web the spider had weaved, he was now firmly caught in the center of it.

* * *

Martin hurried under the portcullis of Vasilis' southern gate, his red cape billowing behind him as he strode past the sentries and guards. He wasn't formally garbed for a council meeting, being clad in a simple tunic, but the messenger had said his presence was required immediately. Taking only the time to fix his great sword to his belt before leaving his home and making for palace, the military commander instructed the healers to send an envoy should his wife's condition worsen. He didn't care what the meeting was for; he would be by her side at the end.

He continued to walk across the courtyard, being greeted by each beast with a nod and respectful 'Captain,' before bounding up the stairs and into the crowded gallery of the palace. Making his way through the melee of nobles, Martin was able to cross the hall with little interruption to the Council Chamber pausing only for a brief moment for the herald to announce his attendance before the doors were thrown open and he entered the room.

"Ah, Martin!" King Matteus called out from the table and beckoned the mouse forward. "You were quicker than I expected! Come and join us for our discussion."

The Martin exhaled visibly sighed and walked towards the gathered nobles to where a vacant chair had been prepared for him. Giving Prince Matthias a brief smile in greeting, he slumped in his chair opposite the king and rested his face in his paws and taking deep breaths to counter his anxiety.

"And what are we discussing today, Your Majesty," Martin muttered with a breath. All he could think about was his wife's pale face and shallow breaths as he left her holding their daughter's paws. He just wanted the meeting over with so he could return to her side.

"His Majesty is going to decide on a wife for his son," Baron Neron said coldly and nodded to where Prince Matthias sat at the table. "Prince Matthias is of age to be betrothed."

"So what has that got to do with me?"

"You were asked here by the king to partake in the discussion," Neron spat. Already his words were turning to venom in his mouth over the dislike for the ascension of this commoner's daughter to the ranks of royalty over his own offspring.

"A discussion? This is what I was called away for?" Martin gaped in disbelief, turning his gaze to the ceiling in hopes of pulling resolve from its stone and timbers. "This is why I was summoned anyway from my _dying_ wife?"

The captain pushed himself up from the table, letting the chair clamour back on the marble floor. Eyeing each council member coldly, he looked defiantly into the eyes of the king.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," he said, opening his arms wide to flop against his sides. "But I hardly see how a betrothal decision bears the need for your Captain of the Royal Guard."

"You dare to question His Majesty's summon?" Baron Edwen gasped, turning to the regal mouse he shook his head. "My Liege, King Matteus, do not let him undermine your rule!"

The regal mouse simply shook his head at the baron. Could Edwen not see the pain in the brave mouse's eyes?

"Leave us," Matteus ordered, looking at all his council and nodding to his son seated beside him. "You as well, Matthias – I want a private word with my captain."

Matteus watched as the gathering slowly filed out of the chamber, waiting until everybeast was gone before turning his attention to the worried mouse now pacing in front of the windows looking out over the sea.

"Martin," Matteus appealed in the silence. When the mouse did not respond, the king rose from his chair and went to where Martin had stopped by the glass. Placing a reassuring paw on his oldest friend's shoulder, Matteus inquired, "How is Branlin doing?"

"She's dying, Matteus," Martin said softly, throwing formality to the wind now that the two of them were alone. "No matter what the healers do, she isn't getting better… she's just so weak."

Collecting himself, he took a deep breath before he continued.

"They believe the babe has died in her," he whispered. "Her body's not rejecting it yet… it's rotting in her and poisoning her."

"Is there nothing they can do?"

"No," Martin breathed as he watched the ships sailing about the bay below them. "One had the idea to cut it out, but the pain and the wound would be fatal… I couldn't let them do that to her, I…"

"It's alright, Martin," Matteus tried to soothe him as the mouse broke away from his paw to begin pacing again.

"It's not alright!" Martin shouted, spinning back on his heel and whipping an illusory sack of guilt onto the marble flagstones. "It is my fault! I wanted another babe. I was the one who had to have a son!

"Why was I not happy enough with Valina?" Martin berated himself. "Carrying Valina was hard enough for Branlin, why couldn't I see that she shouldn't carry another? Why was I not happy enough with a healthy daughter?"

"You can't blame yourself for this, Martin," Matteus said sternly. "You needed to have a son. You needed to pass along your station to your heir. It is our tradition…"

"Oh, hang tradition, Matteus!" Martin countered. "Tradition is not worth death!"

"You needed to pass along your gift, Martin," Matteus continued, unoffended by his friend's outburst. "The gift of your family must be passed on."

"Yes, and some gift it is, too," Martin sneered and gripped the gold and silver swirled pommel of his sword until his knuckles whitened. "I am supposed to keep creatures safe with it," he hissed with bitter contempt. "And I cannot even save my own wife!"

"This is not battle Martin. There is no enemy. It is the Fates taking what they deem as theirs," the king reasoned. His only response came in the form of an undignified snort.

"Matteus, why am I here? What is so dangerous in Matthias' betrothal that needs the presence of the Captain of the Guard?"

"I did not summon you as the Captain of the Guard, Martin," Matteus relented and walked back down to the table to take his seat once more. Resting his elbows on the armrests, the monarch pressed his foreclaws into steeple against his lips, tapping them twice before adding, "I summoned you to the council as a father."

Martin's expression blanked. "I don't understand what you mean."

"Valina's name was one put forward as a possible match for Matthias," Matteus smiled at his friend and held up a piece of parchment displaying a long list of names. "And let's just say I think it will be a great match."

"But we are not part of the gentry," Martin gawped. "Valina can't possibly be mentioned."

"A simple matter of blood."

"A _large _matter where your nobles might be concerned."

Matteus gave an incredulous huff and waved off the comment like it were an annoying fly. "She is as pretty a maid as the others," frustration of being questioned pitching the king's tone. "And her constant presence in the palace as a pawmaid to Queen Sibylla has taught her the ways of how we do things here. As your daughter, she is greatly loved by all the creatures –"

"But we aren't noble, Matteus," Martin stressed. "Remove my title and I am but a common soldier…"

"Will you listen to yourself?" the king barked and slapped his fisted paw on the table. "Martin, I'm offering your daughter the chance to be a queen. Don't spit in the face of fortune, you fool!

The captain stopped his excuses and held his tongue. Letting his eyes roam around the council room he took in every finery and gilded trinket; everything boasted wealth, security and comfort. And all of it could be hers.

"Why?" The word escaped his mouth before he looked back at the sovereign. "Why Valina, Matteus? Surely, you aren't doing this purely from our friendship."

"No." The reply was astute, but one that was not expected. "And you may not be noble, Martin, but you bear a great name." Pointing a claw, the king stabbed the air between them. "Your family bears a great gift, as does mine.

"Just think of the possibilities," Matteus continued as he rose to his footpaws once more. "From your line Badger Lord blood flows in your veins: Bloodwrath, a gift from the Seasons –"

"It's Fighter's Fog, Matteus," the commander grumbled and rolled his eyes. "Stop making a berserking beast in armour sound… important."

"It _is_ important," the king argued. "It's a gift from the Seasons. But yours is not the only ancestry the Seasons have blessed. In the Dawning Days, my family was bestowed the gift that we could never be killed by a vermin blade. We are a protected line."

Matteus could see the wheels turning in Martin's mind at the hard expression on his face; further he pressured his friend.

"If Matthias and Valina were to wed, any of their progeny would be double blessed," Matteus urged. "Imagine if they have a son? Think of the security of Eutrusia would enjoy then? They would have a great son and we will be the forefathers to a mighty line. Oh, how the songs the bards will sing!"

"Will that not tempt the Fates," Martin queried, his eyes and ears low. "Will it not anger them that we have created a line hallowed by Seasons on both sides?"

"What will it matter?" Matteus laughed. "They won't be able to kill them."

"And how do you know Valina will pass on my gift?" Martin said and walked over to his friend to look him squarely in the eyes. "How are you so certain of everything?"

"It has been prophesied," Matteus smiled and patted the soft maroon fabric at his chest. "The prophets have foreseen the scroll and sword unite. They have seen our two houses join as one. You were not meant to have a son, Martin, but your battle talents will pass through your daughter. Your grandson, _our _grandson, will carry on your gift."

"I need to talk to Branlin about this," Martin murmured, holding his forehead in the crook of his palm. "Valina, too."

"There's no time for that, Martin," Matteus grunted and walked to the sideboard to pour them both a goblet of currant wine. Handing the cup to his friend, the king took a drink. "I have to announce Matthias' betrothal within the hour."

"But the documents need to be drafted –"

"Done!" Matteus exclaimed, nodding to the papyrus on the table. "All you need do is sign."

"But Valina needs to be dressed for presentation."

"Where do you think she is now?" Matteus winked as he took a large drink of wine. "I ordered a pair of heralds to collect her, oh, shortly after you were summoned."

"But Matteus, I haven't asked her!"

"And this bothers you?" Matteus guffawed, dipping a quill in ink and holding it out to the captain. "Martin, females don't have a say in who they marry. Fates, if we left to them, they'd marry for _love!"_

"I did," Martin reminisced. "I wish is Valina will as well."

"They'll learn to appreciate each other over time," Matteus said, dismissing the notion as quickly as it registered. "Love or not, do you really think a maid is going to say no to marrying a prince?"

"When?" whispered the apprehensive father.

"In three seasons when Matthias turns eighteen," he firmed. "Valina will of course move into the palace at once to start training for her future, but you will still see her whenever you wish."

Pushing the document towards the captain when Martin accepted the feather, the regal mouse turned and bellowed at the doors.

"Matthias! Enter!"

Almost instantly, one of the double doors opened and the adolescent prince came forward to stand before his father.

"Yes, Lord Father," Matthias addressed while watching Martin scratch the quill tip over the draft.

"Your betrothal is finalized," the king said sternly. "You will wed Captain Martin's daughter, Valina."

Matthias looked up at his father in astonishment. He still could not believe this was happening – that he would be burdened by a marriage with a commoner. He had seen her once or twice before when she served his mother, and though he could admit she was pretty, he knew nothing else about her, nor did he want to. Seasons, the last time he had seen her she was wearing an apron and her headfur was loose and tangled. Imagine the future Queen of Eutrusia wearing an apron with her headfur down? It was unheard of.

"Now run along and get ready for the presentation," Matteus directed while he overlooked Martin's signature.

"But Father," Matthias implored taking extra care to choose his words wisely in front of the formidable captain. "Valina is not who I thought I would be… I thought I had to marry a –"

"You will wed whom I command, Matthias," Matteus eyed him coldly. "Remember what I said. No protests."

"Father –"

"Captain Martin!" a cry came from behind the closed doors before they were thrown open and a frantic squirrelmaid ran through the entrance. "Your Majesty, Your Highness, pardon the intrusion, but Captain Martin, you must come immediately… your wife…"

Martin didn't wait for her to finish before bolting from the chamber without so much as a goodbye to the royal beasts. Seeing their captain's frantic retreat, the Royal Guards all lowered their spears to make a pathway through the nobles.

Matteus sighed as he watched his friend leave. Judging by the squirrelmaid's expression, the king deduced Martin no longer had a living wife.

"Father, I need talk to you about this betrothal," Matthias started. "You cannot be truly serious to have me marry a low-born."

"I am, but more importantly, Matthias, I _can,"_ Matteus sniped. "And you will do as I command."

"But –"

"Matthias, just stop." The king proceeded to stare at the closed doors and then back to the document on the slate table. "Marriage isn't the end all and be all in life. Your wife is simply a body to produce legitimate children from – you don't even have to talk to her."

"Like you do to my Lady Mother?" the prince glared. "Like Lord Aarod treats Dellia?"

"Exactly. Remember son: The next generation is what _is _important."

Matthias gave his father a curt nod and bowed his leave. Pausing at the doors, he looked back over his shoulder and spoke to the space between himself and the king.

"If it is your command, I will marry Valina, but I will _not_ treat her like an object; and I will try to make it a pleasant union, for both our sakes."

Before the king could refute the prince's affirmation, Matthias disappeared through the doorway and into the Gallery.


	4. Prologue II

**Prologue II**

"His Majesty the King!"

A broad smile erupted on Matthias's face as he strode into the Council Chambers and was immediately greeted by the sound of his council members' fisted paws pounding the table and calls of congratulations. Matthias put his paws up and happily waved off their ovations, holding in a proud laugh in his chest that threatened his regal demeanour.

"I –" the king started as the cheering ebbed, but paused as he looked down at the four- season old mouselet standing beside him. "I mean, _we_ thank-you, my lords. Do we not, Aesir?"

The prince looked up excitedly at his father; his sharp blue eyes shining as bright as his new coronet signifying his freshly invested title as Etifedd of Eutrusia. Bestowed with the same copper fur as his father, the prince looked like a miniature version of the king when he nodded.

"Yes, Lord Father," Prince Aesir agreed, puffing out his own chest with juvenile pride. "Do we sit now, Father?"

"Yes, Aesir," Matthias smirked and nodded towards his throne, where a smaller seat had been place on the king's right. Beside the prince's chair, a thick set mouse with gray fur grinned and gave Aesir a wink as he tipped his head back in beckoning.

"Go on, son," the king encouraged. "Your seat is between me and Lord Ulran."

"Yes, Da – erm, I mean, Lord Father," he stumbled before trotting off to his new investiture. The king chuckled as his son clambered up onto the seat and began conversing quickly with Ulran who began showing the prince the scribed agenda before him. Yet, as friendly as the Lord of Ruarden Manor was being towards the prince, it was the mouse beside Ulran that drew the king's acute attention; Baron Neron of Eurus sat oblivious to his son's attentions except for the dour expression on his face. Still, the baron made no remark or slight to either prince or himself and so Matthias reserved his contempt for a blatant action of disrespect.

_"Corsairs!"_ the prince exclaimed, commanding the immediate attention of every beast in the room. "We're gonna talk 'bout corsairs! Da – look," he said, lifting his parchment up to point a claw at the topic. "Ulran says this word is corsairs an' –"

"Yes, Aesir," Matthias interrupted before his son could babble onward and began approaching his place at the council table. As he walked, the king added, "Please forgive Prince Aesir's outburst, my lords. It has been an exhilarating two days and now the idea of 'The Return of Rattery Mink' has put my son over the edge enough to make him forget his first council meeting should be observed in silence."

Several chuckles arose from the mention of the common childhood story-villain while the Eutrusian high nobles took their seats as the king passed. Once Matthias settled upon his chair, Lord Trysten, who was acting as representative for his ailing father, Baron Edwen, rose and addressed the king and prince directly.

"Your Majesty, Your Highness" the lord started, placing a paw over his heart and bowing his head. "May the State of Wesrus be the first to congratulate you on the queen's healthy delivery of yet another prince!"

"And the north, Your Majesty," the aging Baron Milan echoed with the shaky voice of a sage. "What a day yesterday was for Eutrusia! First, Prince Aesir is becomes our Etifedd and prince next king – and now, on the same day as your son's anniversary of birth and his investiture, our magnanimous queen gives you yet another princeling!"

"Yes, it would seem the Seasons have blessed us indeed," Matthias replied with a large grin and inclined his head in appreciation towards the two nobles. Inside the king was still reeling with pride from the previous day's events; Matthias had barely finished the ritual addresses and placed the Etifedd's coronet on his Aesir's head when Valina had to be excused from the ceremonies as her labour commenced. By midday his widowed sister Dellia, the now Dowager Lady of Naesbrey, had joyously announced to him the birth of healthy princeling. It was as if nothing could stop Eutrusia's good fortune.

"Oh, listen to you being so modest, sire," Lord Ulran piped, rapping his knuckles on the stone tabletop. "Blessed, indeed – it's a bloody cause for a celebration!"

Again the nobles thundered their support on the table causing the king to shake his head at the revelry. Looking at his friend, Matthias gave Ulran a half smile and exhaled his thoughts. The heir to the Eurus baronage had been his closest friend and confidant since the Uprising of Eurus at his and Valina's coronation, standing beside him through thick and thin.

Matthias leaned over Aesir's chair and beckoned his friend to do the same. "Causing my table to be broken is not going to increase your chances at me agreeing to you proposal of marriage to my sister, Ulran."

"Auntie Lia's gettin' married?" Aesir whispered and leaned his head in too, desperate to be back of the secret conversation. Matthias just clapped a paw over his son's mouth.

"Shh, Aesir," he commanded under the din of the nobles. "Secret."

"No, but it couldn't hurt," Ulran confessed to the king's direct question. "Have you made your decision then?"

_Yes,_ the king thought but did not voice. Over the past season, he had never seen Dellia as happy as she was when Ulran came around her – or Ulran for that matter. Her unfortunate reproductive shortcoming was not an issue for him as he had an heir already from his first wife who had died in birthing, and the two of them were clearly smitten with one another. In his heart, Matthias wanted to give his consent to the love match, but his mind held him back; or rather the uncertainty of another beast held him back.

Letting his gaze drift past Ulran to the lord's father, the king watched as Baron Neron sat quietly reading the parchments and proceedings in front of him as if ignoring the conversation all together. Narrowing his eyes at the baron, Matthias sat back up and waved Ulran to do the same. Clearing his throat to gain the room's attention, he proclaimed, "It would seem now _none_ can challenge the validity of the union between Queen Valina and I. Despite your initial apprehensions to our marriage my lords, I believe you, as well as all of Eutrusia, can see the royal line has never been stronger, nor its future more secure."

"I believe any doubt of that was all erased with the birth of Prince Aesir, Your Majesty," Baron Crar responded plainly. "I can confidently say Her Majesty, Queen Valina, is greatly loved in Aurelius – nay, all of Seldor – and I know of none who would speak out against her as queen despite her… humble beginnings."

"Why wouldn't a beast like Mama?" Aesir questioned, scrunching up his nose at the thought. "Everybeast loves Mama."

"Yes, they do, Aesir," the king assured him, realizing his young son's first council meeting was not the time to bring up old conversations best left on the shelf. "She is the greatest queen our kingdom could ask for. Now, just sit here and watch how these meetings are conducted."

Satisfied with the answer, the mouselet gave a single bob of his head and looked forward over the table again to observe all the creatures encircling the stone. Again, the nobles took up the topic of the new princeling, offering another round of praise to the monarchs. Aesir watched and listened to their manners, observing how his father behaved and copying his gestures and facial expressions.

"Are you ill, Baron Neron?" Matthias asked pointedly after a short rift of silence where it was expected for the last baron to offer his congratulations to the king on the royal birth.

"No, Majesty," the baron said shortly and put down the parchment to look the king squarely in the eye. "No, I am not ill."

"Then I will have no choice but to take your silence as an ill favour towards my son," Matthias retorted. The guards around the chamber stiffened at the tone of their king's voice, waiting in joyful anticipation of removing the conceited baron. Feeling the tension escalate, Aesir opened his mouth to question his father, but Ulran laid a gentle paw over his to signal his continued silence. The prince glanced up at the lord mouse and furrowed his brow at Ulran's stern look in the baron's direction.

"Not at all, Your Majesty," Neron replied nonchalantly and motioned to a wine bearer to refill his cup. Standing, the proud mouse hoisted his goblet in a toast as he announced, "Your Majesty. Your Highness. My fellow lords –"

"Where is the king?" a voice shouted and hammered on the doors of the Council Chambers, startling noble and serving beasts alike. "The king! The king! I must see the king!"

At Matthias' nod, the footbeasts threw open the doors and a frantic page-squirrel scurried into the center of the chamber. He looked to speak immediately, but then pulled back – his eyes widening as he cowered slightly under the gaze of Eutrusia's most powerful creatures.

"What is the meaning of this?" Matthias demanded, rising from his throne to be better seen by the messenger as if the royal crown and diamond encrusted estate collar was not enough to set the regal mouse apart from the peerage. "What is the meaning of your intrusion?"

"I was told to f-fetch you right away, sire," the squirrel stammered out, forgetting formality in his anxiety.

"You _fetch _the King of Eutrusia?" Lord Trysten laughed and pointed a paw at the squirrel. "Better rephrase that, lad."

"It's just I … Your Majesty, I was told to –" His speech halted when he saw the young prince stand up on his chair to see over the heads of the others.

"Well, come on then!" Matthias yelled, panic for something not yet known to him rising in his throat. "Speak lad- out with it!"

"Your Majesty, you must come to your royal chambers at once," the page said quickly at the whip to Matthias voice. "It's urgent- the healers sent me."

"For what?" Matthias pressed and leaned both paws on the table. "Why would I need to see the healers in my chambers?"

"It's –" Again the squirrel began to bumble his words when the prince mimicked his father's stance and expression. "- it's… it…"

"Spit it out!" Matthias said sharply. Snapping his fingers, the guards moved forward at the squirrel.

"Your Majesty," the squirrel responded quickly and dropped to his knees before giving the king a sorrowful look. "Your Majesty, your son is dead."

* * *

Matthias stormed into the presence chamber of the royal apartments with a gaggle of lords and advisors striding in his wake. Looking around he saw a large number of chancellors and elders already lining the walls and whispering amongst themselves; stopping their gossip only long enough to give Matthias a bow as he passed. Putting on a stern face, the king ascended the stairs to his private chambers, pausing briefly on the landing in front of the doors for his son to catch up.

"Aesir, I'm going to go inside and see your mother," Matthias explained once the prince reached the landing. Nodding to the Aesir's two pawbeasts following the royal youngster, the king added, "You wait here with your servants until you're summoned – do you understand?"

Aesir looked up at him as a grief-stricken wail came from behind the doors. Biting his lip against the tears that welled his eyes, the prince nodded. "Yes, Da."

The king sighed and placed a paw on his young son's shoulder. No amount of lessons or tutelage could have prepared the prince for the death of his brother. A brother whom – not two bells before – he and his father had seen when they broke protocol to sneak into the royal chamber using the secret passageways to be with the queen and the newest addition to their family.

"It will be alright, Aesir," Matthias said and gave Aesir's shoulder a small squeeze. The prince looked up at his father and forced back a stifled tear – he would not cry in front of the gathering crowd; he had been taught that much.

"If you say so, Da."

"Good mouse," Matthias murmured. Looking down at the increasing numbers flooding into the hall below, the king shook his head.

"Have beasts no propriety?" he growled and clenched his teeth. His family had just suffered a terrible loss. Could creatures not give them one ounce of space?

"Your Majesty?" a guard questioned and stepped closer to his king from his place at the entrance. "Did you say something, Your Majesty?"

"Get them out of here," Matthias snarled and stabbed a claw at the creatures below them. "These are royal chambers, not the Gallery or Feasting Hall – they have no business here save if they are summoned. Get them out."

Without another word, the king motioned to the footbeasts to open the doors and he strode into the private chambers. Immediately, Matthias was bombarded with healers and midwives, all speaking at once in frantic voices, and the mournful cries of Valina in the distance.

"Your Majesty!" a senior healer gasped after a hasty bow. "Her Majesty will not let go of the babe. We cannot get the body away from her…"

Before the creature to finish his sentence, Matthias silenced him by raising his paw as he pushed his way through the group and walked around the pillars to where Valina was sitting on the steps of the balcony, crying and rocking a lifeless babe in setting sunlight. Off to the side, her pawmaids were huddled together, clasping each other's paws and letting silent tears streak their cheeks.

Going slowly to his wife, the king knelt in front of her and tried to hold her paw, but Valina snatched it away and held the little bundle closer to her.

"Valina," Matthias said softly and brushed her ebony headfur away from her face. "Vali, don't do this."

"He's d-dead, Matthias," she whispered to him with her closed eyes tight against the world. "Our son is d-dead."

Matthias was silent as he focused on the motionless mouseling in Valina's paws, a mouseling he had held and cuddled close to his heart with the dawn. He didn't know what to say, he couldn't believe this was happening. The babe had seemed strong to him and the midwives had formally reported him to be thriving.

"I just got back from the astrologers," Valina continued quietly, "They finally charted his name."

Looking up at Matthias, Valina let her tears fall as she gasped out her words.

"H-he was going to be another M-Matteus," she stuttered quickly in between breaths and croaked sobs. "H-he was charted the same name as your father… I was just meeting with the prophets when they came to get me… when they told me he was d-dead…"

Giving Valina a quick kiss on her headfur, Matthias got to his footpaws and rounded on the assemblage of healers and midwives.

"What happened?" Matthias sniped pointing a paw at the senior midwife. "You said yesterday he was a healthy babe."

"That was yesterday," the midwife replied in a shaky voice. They had never seen their king so precarious before; King Matthias always acted formally and with great dignity, but this situation was not one he could have possibly been prepared for.

"This morning he seemed hale as well," the midwife continued. "It was when the princeling went down for a nap, he didn't awake."

"And what was the cause?" the king pressed stepping in front of them and drawing himself up to his full height to stare at them down his nose. He was furious, hurt and beyond sorrow. "What killed my son – Eutrusia's newest prince?"

"We aren't sure, your Majesty."

"It was the swaddling bands!" Valina cried from her place on the steps. "They were placed too tight!"

Gathering her long skirts about her, Valina went to her husband and relaxed her arms just enough for Matthias to see the marks on the little mouseling's body between the folds of its blankets.

"My son was choked to death?" Matthias roared. "Murder! Murder of a royal prince! Who is responsible for this?"

"Well?" the king stressed at their silence while they exchanged nervous gazes amongst themselves. "Bring the creature forth or you will all meet the axe-beast."

"We cannot find the midwife who was present for the binding, Your Majesty," the principle healer replied shaking his head. "We have searched…"

"Search again!" the king ordered. Hearing Valina start her tears again, he sighed and turned back to her desperately trying to keep herself remotely together.

"Go, all of you," Matthias barked and pointed all of them to the door. "Out! Leave us in peace."

Not wanting to enrage the king further, the servants removed themselves for the monarchs' presence without delay. Matthias waited until the last of the creatures were gone before pulled Valina into his arms and embraced her tightly. Closing his eyes, the king rested his chin on her head and breathed in deep breaths to control his emotions.

"It's the Fates that took him, Matthias," Valina said quietly, nuzzling her face into the rich fabric of his tunic. "They sent an evil creature to do this to us. They are punishing us…"

"Don't talk like that, Valina," Matthias said as he exhaled loudly and pulled her back to look into her eyes. "We aren't being punished."

"We are!" the queen snapped back and pulled away from him, the lifeless form still in her paws. "We tempted them with our union, with Aesir… oh, Matthias, what will happen to Aesir?"

"What do you mean, what will happen to Aesir?" Matthias asked as his wife paled even more than she already was.

"What if the Fates try to take Aesir from us?" Valina gasped. "Matthias…"

"Valina, stop thinking that way," Matthias interrupted her, his own hint of fear evident in his tone.

"I have no other way to think, Matthias," Valina breathed and gave the king a solemn look. "Our families' gifts… they've past to Aesir. The Fates didn't see it until it was too late. Then we dared to make another one… we've challenged them. They've taken our princeling away, what if they try and take our Etifedd? Matthias, what if the Fates try to take Aesir?"

"They won't – the Seasons won't let them… _I_ won't let them."

"It's their fault you know," Valina whispered and moved back into Matthias arms again. "Our fathers. They were too ambitious. They strove too high."

"They both had great hopes for Eutrusia, yes."

"We both feared this would happen," Valina continued as if Matthias hadn't even spoken. "We both wondered… You sat in this very room when Aesir was born and told me you feared the Fates retribution."

"Yes."

There was no use denying it. He had always feared the possibility of what might happen, but it all seemed irrelevant while Aesir continued to thrive and no threat came. "I had apprehensions about our marriage."

"Then why didn't you fight your father on it?" Valina countered, her grief causing her to lash out at insignificant circumstances. "I was a common maid- surely you could have fought him on those grounds alone!"

"Because I fell in love with you, Vali," Matthias breathed. "After I came to know you, I couldn't imagine my life without you – as you did me."

"But –"

"Valina, enough of this," Matthias said sternly. Bringing up old arguments was not going to help their current situation. Commoner or not, Valina had risen to her new station with all the grace of a properly trained princess and once Matthias was able to see past her lineage, he had quickly fallen for the bright-minded and gentle maiden she truly was.

"We should never have married. Our gifts should never have been joined –"

"If you were so against marrying me, why didn't you say something?" Matthias retaliated. "You seemed more than agreeable to becoming a future queen."

"I didn't have a choice!" Valina said angrily. "My mother just died before my very eyes! I was still holding her paw hoping she would take another breath when the heralds came in and pulled me away to the palace. I couldn't think, I could barely breathe…

"And now I still don't have a choice," she exhaled, composing herself and turning back towards the balcony, the calming waves of the sea lapping the shore below them. "My son has been taken from me…"

"We are at the will of the Seasons, Valina," Matthias said plainly, letting his anger and frustration go. Valina only nodded to acknowledge she heard him and started to rock the little bundle in her arms, humming a lullaby as if putting the babe to sleep.

"Valina, you have to let him go," Matthias said with a sigh, walking up behind his queen and holding her shoulders tightly. He knew he had to get the dead mouseling away from her. He didn't want to use force. He wanted her to give it up freely.

"No," Valina moaned and leaned back into him. "Our son, Matthias, our son is dead."

"Then let us honour him as he should be," Matthias pressed. Seeing her hold start to loosen, the king pushed his fact further. "Valina, lay him there on the chest yourself so we can mourn him quietly. Allow him to go to the Dark Forest with tribute, Valina, where he can be there with your father and mine."

Valina nodded slowly and walked over to the ornately carved chest by the archway. Laying the small figure on the cushion, she backed away with her paws to her mouth to stop her rising cries. Matthias came up behind her and wrapped his arms around, holding her and willing her to take some of his strength. To the king's relief, she turned in his paws and wrapped her arms around his body to embrace him as well, each of them trying to comfort the other.

"Aesir," Valina sobbed into Matthias' shoulder. "Matthias, where is Aesir?"

"Waiting to see you," he replied. "In the Presence Chamber."

"Please send for him," Valina sighed and wiped tears from her cheeks. "Matthias, please. I need to hold a living child in my paws."

Matthias nodded and kissed the side of her headfur before leaving Valina to cross the chamber. Opening the door himself, the king walked into the now virtually empty presence chamber and gestured for Aesir to come forward to him.

"Your mother needs to see you, Aesir," Matthias informed him and tipped his head towards the open door. "No tears, son. She needs our strength."

"Is my brother really dead, Da?" Aesir asked as he left his servants to join his father.

"Yes, Aesir," Matthias relented and led the young mouselet inside the private chambers. Once inside, Matthias closed the door gently and pointed a paw to where Valina was now kneeling before the chest. "We must now honour him as a family."

Aesir nodded and bravely strode ahead towards his mother. He didn't stop at her side, but rather went boldly to the chest and looked upon the deceased mouseling.

"My brother?" His voice was small, but strong.

"Yes, Aesir," Valina whispered getting to her footpaws and hugging him tight.

"I woulda been a good brother to him," he said softly. "We woulda been great friends."

Valina nodded. Aesir was always resolute even in grief despite his young age. Already in his young life the prince had to deal with the deaths of both his grandfathers and his grandmother, not to mention a beloved nursemaid who had fallen ill and perished to a fever. Truly a mix of both bloodlines, Aesir had his father's diplomatic and tactful mind combined with the courage and strength in his heart of his maternal grandsire. Although, his greatest assumed talent had yet to reveal itself.

For a time the family stood before their lost family member; saying silent prayers to the Seasons and holding each other by the paw. Seeing Valina start to sway from exhaustion, Matthias led her and Aesir over to the lounge by the fire and where he settled them into the comfort of the pillows and blankets. At a nod from Valina, Matthias gave a shout and a guard and a healer appeared at the door. Not trusting his voice, the king pointed to the dead princeling and the two went forward to collect it.

"Be careful with him," Matthias said painfully as the healer wrapped the tiny form in a black sheet. "He is to be laid to rest beside my father and mother in the royal crypt. The ceremony will at the Basilica of Anseus be in two days."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the healer replied and gestured for the guard to pick up the now tightly wrapped body. "I will let the lords know your wishes for the arrangements."

The king gave a curt tilt of his head and returned his attention back to his remaining family as the door clicked shut to leave them alone again.

Matthias watched as Valina quietly sat with Aesir and discussed the happenings of their son's day; his lessons and instructions, and even what he had to eat for his mid-day meal. It was something they did daily and Matthias was relieved to see his queen slip back into her normal routine. Going to them, he placed a kiss on both their heads and at Valina's puzzled expression he gave her a weak smile.

"I'll be right back," Matthias croaked out, his own voice cracking under his emotions as the weight of his son's death pressed down hard on his shoulders.

"You're not going back to council?" Valina ask anxiously and grasped his paw in attempt to make him stay. "Matthias…"

"No, Valina," Matthias said and shook his head more against his threatening tears than in response to her question. "I just need to be alone with the sea."

* * *

The king strode out onto the white sands from the slate steps of the old stairwell that led directly from the palace to the beach. It was a weakness in Vasilis' fortifications, but was strategically hidden in a brief maze of rocks; for some beast to find the entrance, they would have to know it was even there to look for it. Quickly, Matthias slipped around the ancient pillars and stepped out onto the open sea air, watching the calming waves of the sea and finding solace in their rhythmic sound as he walked to their earthy beat. They continued on despite it all. They were constant. He had to be constant for his family, too.

Behind him three royal guards padded the beach in his wake, keeping a keen eye, but a respectful distance so as not to disturb their grieving sovereign. The day had dawned with such hope and promise and now as the sun started to set on the horizon, all were reminded of the fleetingness of life and humbled by the power of the Fates.

The king stopped and sighed at the sea's refuse which littered the shores from the storm that happened upon Aurelius the previous night. All around were pieces of driftwood and clumps of seaweed with the occasional marooned sea creature, now dead and dried from the hot southern sun.

"What a mess," Matthias huffed and kicked a piece of soaked wood over to reveal an urchin. "We'll have to clean this up before somebeast hurts themselves."

"Majesty?" one of the guards questioned and stepped forward as to better hear the commands of his king.

"I said we will have to…" Matthias started to say in louder voice when a tiny sound reached his ears. At first he thought he was imagining things; he thought he heard a babe crying. Shaking his head, the king opened his mouth to speak, but again the cry rang out.

"Do you hear that?" Matthias asked the guards. "Do you hear an infant?"

"It's coming from over that way!" a squirrel guard said boldly and drew his sword to point down the coast to a curve in the rocks. "It's coming from the west!"

"Draw your swords!" Matthias ordered, pulling out his own blade that hung at his side and led the guards off at a trot towards the impending danger. Thankfully he had thought to arm himself before leaving the palace in case of contest and as it would seem, it was a good thing he did.

Cautiously, the four made it to the rocks and peek around the bend to see what had been a small ship cracked up against the mounds of coastal stone formations. Around the boat, bodies of mice and otters lay crumpled in the sand or folded over the broken railings and short mast. There didn't appear to be any form of life, but yet the crying endured.

"Must have gotten caught up in the storm last night," one of the guards exclaimed and sheathed his sword. "Poor creatures."

"Looks to be a fishing vessel," the squirrel commented. "We'll have to check with Admiral Daelahn to see if all the ships made it back to port."

"Check for survivors," Matthias ordered and worked his way around the ship searching for the source of the wails. "Find the…"

"Your Majesty!" the third guard called and dropped to his knees at the stern of the wrecked ship. "Your Majesty!"

Sheathing his sword, Matthias walked over and stared down at the sight of a dead mousemaid. In her arms, a tiny mouseling wiggled and squirmed in its soaked blanket, whimpering and making sucking noises with its mouth in hunger.

Without a thought, Matthias picked up the little bundle and held it tight to his chest, warming the little babe with his body. He couldn't help the smile that curved his lips as his paternal instincts tingled through his body at the feel of a little life in his paws.

"It's Ma musta been a fishermouse," the guard stated the obvious. "They musta got caught on the waves when the storm blew in."

"Poor little tyke," the squirrel guard said from the stem and nudged a dead body with his footpaw. "Best get that little one to the orphanage quick-like. By the feel of these bodies, it's not had a suckle for a better part of a day."

"Back to the palace, then," Matthias ordered, now unconsciously rocking the little mouseling in his paws. "Alert the Lord Admiral and try to find out who these creatures belong to. If nothing else, organize a contingent and clean this up and lay the beasts to rest."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the guards responded in unison and the four of them started to walk back to the palace.

"I can take the little one from you, sire," the squirrel guard offered and held out his paws. "I'll make sure she gets to the orphanage."

"Yes, of course," the king replied and went to hand the babe off to the guard when it let out a thunderous protest and twisted back into Matthias' paws, whimpering and cooing when the mouse brought it up to his shoulder to comfort it.

"There-there, little one," Matthias whispered and rubbed its tiny back. "You're safe, it's alright."

"Seems like it's got high standards!" the guard laughed. "Why be held by a common beast, when you can be held by a king!"

"Why indeed," Matthias chuckled and bought the infant back down into the crook of his arm, willing it to stop crying with a gentle rock. Pulling the hood of the mouseling robe back so he could stroke its ears, Matthias smiled to see a thick bunch of tightly curled headfur crowning the little one's head. It was a little maiden. A little maid with soft green eyes the colour of the sea after a storm.

"It's alright," Matthias said happily. "I can carry her."

The little maid cooed at the king and stretched up a tiny paw to bat at his face. Letting it touch his chin, the regal mouse sighed at the feel of it and gave it a little kiss.

A strange feeling came over Matthias while they continued to walk back to the palace. Perhaps, he and Valina were not meant to have any more children; maybe Aesir was all from their line they could have now that they attracted the attention of the Fates. He smiled as he looked out over the waves towards the setting sun. It was the summer solstice. The seasons were changing.

"What will happen to her at the orphanage," Matthias asked as they twisted their way through the rock maze to the stair. "Will she get a proper nurse?"

"She looks t' be almost a season old, so probably just some plain milk until they can get solids into her," the one guard replied. "Usually babes get fostered quickly, though."

"She's still too young for plain milk," the king muttered thinking of the team of wet nurses at his disposal since the death of his son. "Hopefully, the Lord Admiral can track her family down and she can go to them directly."

"If her family wasn't all on that ship, Your Majesty," a guard put in. "Judgin' by the age o' that maid, I'd be saying this wee one be her first."

"Aye," the squirrel guard agreed and held the door of the hidden stairwell open for the king. "I'd think this little maid be in the market for a new family."

"I think she's already found one," Matthias said softly and sighed as the mouseling cuddled closer in his arms and yawned, exhausted now that she felt content and safe.

"Majesty?" the squirrel guard asked with a raised eyebrow at the king, but Matthias wasn't listening or paying attention to anything but his little possession. Once safely inside the palace, the king waved off his guards and bounded up the stairs to the western wing of Vasilis and towards his family. With each step he became more certain of his thoughts. The Fates had taken away one of his children, but perhaps the Seasons had given one back to him.

* * *

"Valina?" Matthias beckoned, coming into the private chamber of the royal apartments. His wife looked up from her place on the lounge and eyed Matthias suspiciously as he came forward holding his small bundle. Aesir got to his footpaws from where he was seated beside her and took a step back to allow his father room to get to his mother.

Matthias got down on his knees in front of the queen and held his paws open, showing the little maid with her sea salt crusted fur. Immediately, Valina's eyes warmed and she held out her paws.

"I found her by the sea," Matthias said, placing the mouseling in Valina's arms. "I know that one life cannot replace another…"

"Oh, Matthias, a little maiden!" Valina smiled and cooed at the babe. "How did you… where did you-?"

"She was in a shipwreck," Matthias continued, holding his arm out for his son to come close. "There were no survivors. I believe the Seasons have given her to us."

"Oh, she's perfect, Matthias," Valina breathed, rocking the little one in her paws. Looking up at him in disbelief, she asked quietly. "She's ours?"

"Would you like her to be?"

"Yes!" Valina whispered, giving the babe a kiss on her forehead. "She will be our little princess."

"A princess of Eutrusia," Matthias smiled at her, breathing a sigh of relief that he was able to ease his wife's suffering. "Aesir will always be our prince, our son, but Eutrusia can have a princess."

Valina grinned broadly and nodded her agreement. The little babe would be a princess in name to show her station in the family, but not royalty. Inwardly, she chuckled. Like that meant anything.

"What are we going to call her?" Valina sighed happily and held her down for Aesir to see the mouseling. "I suppose she didn't come with a name tag?"

"Not many of them do!" Matthias chortled, giving Aesir's shoulders a squeeze, "Only us lucky ones. Right, Aesir?"

"Yes, Da," the prince smiled, knowing his father was referring to the astrologers who decided the names of the royal babes.

"Well, royal or not she is going to be much loved," Valina put forth and started wiping the sea salt off the little one's face with her kerchief. "What shall we call her?"

Aesir watched as his mother tended to the mouseling and laughed when the mouseling clasped the queen's finger and pulled it to her lips to start sucking on it – grumbling in protest when nothing came from the manicured paw.

"I'll call for a wet nurse," Matthias said softly and dropped a kiss on Valina's headfur. "Shall I order the cradle be brought into our chambers tonight, or do you want her in the nursery?"

"Here," Valina replied, a light smile curling her lips. "I want to be close to her."

"As you wish, my queen," Matthias chuckled and went to the entrance of the presence chamber to call the servants.

"Any thoughts of names, Aesir?" Valina asked quietly and removed the babe's soaked wrappings to replace it with a warm blanket from the lounge.

"No, Mama," he said softly. Peeking in the blanket at the babe, he grinned when she blinked her soft green eyes at him and blew bubbles with her lips. Small as the gesture was – it warmed his heart and he felt it – just as his mother said – he felt love.

"What about 'Cerys?'" Valina suggested as Matthias came back into the room and settled himself down beside his family on the lounge. "Cerys means –"

"Love," the king finished and nodded his response. "I think it's perfect. What do you think, Aesir?"

"I like it," he replied and let the mouseling grip his foreclaw. "It's pretty."

"Just like her," Valina mused. "She's just beautiful with those curls and big green eyes, aren't you my little Cerys? My perfect little Princess Cerys," she added and rubbed her nose to the mouseling's.

"What do you think of Cerys, Aesir?" Matthias questioned when a soft knock sounded on the chamber door and a small team of nursemaids entered the room, waiting patiently by the door to be waved forward by the royals.

The prince's reply was as soft as zephyr carrying the promise of spring. In a dreamlike state, he answered his father with a single word: "Beautiful."


	5. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"That's it, Your Highness – push forward!" The arms master shouted from his vantage point above the tilt grounds. The veteran squirrel ambled across the stand, crossing his arms one over the other as he walked his paws down the railing, ever watching the movements of the adolescent mouse battling a royal guard. Backwards the mouse drove the burly otter with his sword, parrying thrusts and countering strikes with every movement. Once Prince Aesir slipped and had to duck under the otter's javelin, but he quickly righted himself and pressed his advantage again. Spinning to the left, the prince brought his sword up in a high arch before bringing it down hard upon the guard's block, cleaving the javelin in two.

"Come on, Loukin!" the squirrel yelled as the guard was forced to draw his dirk as a last defence. "He's not but a lad!"

"I think he's got him, Donovan," a serious looking mouse stated from beside the squirrel. Leaning further on the bannister, the mouse smiled and pointed a paw at the otter. "Loukin's on his heel."

"Fates betide, he is," he replied with a chuckle. "Bet you're glad Prince Aesir will be on your side of the charge, lieutenant."

"Wouldn't want to be against him, that's for sure!" the lieutenant laughed and clapped the arms master on the back. "Seasons forbid the need will arise."

Donovan nodded, though his eyes never left the duelling pair. "We have been fortunate over the last seasons, Klein, but that doesn't mean it will continue."

"It's been nine seasons since the War of Wesrus," the lieutenant said plainly, adjusting his white cloak over his navy uniform. "King Matthias led our forces to crush the corsairs then and we can do it again if need be."

"Aye, he did," the arms master responded and waved off the lieutenant as he took his leave to prepare the next pair for sparring. The last time the Royal Guard had been called to fight invading vermin, the prince had been a mere eight seasons old and unable to lead the army into battle against the sea scum that were pillaging the western borders of Eutrusia. The king himself had led army to battle and returned victorious, but the King Matthias was older now as was his son, the realm's rightful Captain of the Guard. Whichever disturbance occurred next would be on the prince's young shoulders to counter.

Donovan flicked his ear back at the sound of approaching footpaws to his right. Turning slightly, the arms master saw the king and queen ascend the narrow stairs of the overhang to better view the scene below them.

"Your Majesties," Donovan said respectfully and gave the regal mice a quick bow.

"Syr Donovan," Matthias addressed him formally and nodded towards his son. "He's improving."

"Every day, sire," the squirrel affirmed with a smile and a tip of his head. "I'm amazed at his skill, as are his lieutenants."

The king simply hummed his reply and turned his attention to the combat below. Leaning on the railing, Matthias looked down at his battling son. In his heart he was fighting every step with him and if one observed the monarch's footpaws, they would have seen his footclaws twitching in imaginary movement; yet, in his mind the king was reserved and anxious. Maybe today - maybe today, Aesir would push himself hard enough.

"How is he training this morning, Donovan?" Valina questioned pointedly and moved beside the once close friend of her father. "It looks like a good spar."

"It is, Majesty," the arms master said with a kindly smile. "Like I said, he's talented."

"Talent isn't enough," Matthias piped, straightening up from the rail to eye the elder. "Syr Donovan, has he bloodwrath or not?"

"He is still young, Your Majesty," the squirrel said delicately as Valina closed her eyes at the sharp tone in the king's speech. "Give him time."

"Prince Aesir has had enough time to prove his quality," Matthias scowled. "He started combat training at fifteen seasons, Syr Donovan. Surely, in the two seasons since that commencement you have noticed _something."_

"Matthias, please," Valina sighed and walked back to her husband. Laying a paw on his arm, she gave him a smile. "Have faith in your son."

"Queen Valina is right, sire," Donovan agreed. "There is a difference between sparring others in a ring and being placed in a hard-pitched battle –"

"Then train him as if it were a battle."

"Prince Aesir Etifedd is training more arduous than any creature his age, Your Majesty," Donovan said defensively. "We're pushing him hard, but he has not shown any signs of bloodwrath yet."

"All this training and nothing?" Matthias said in disbelief. Rubbing a paw over his face, the king pressed, "Not even a glimmer? Not a hint of red?"

"No, sire," Donovan said lowly shaking his head at the snap to the king's voice. "We keep throwing beasts at him, but – Loukin, watch your flank!"

But the warning came too late. Below in the training ring, Aesir blocked Loukin's downward swing, twisting as the blades locked and kicking the legs out from under his opponent. Backwards the otter fell with a heavy thud, his dirk falling from his paw as his back slapped down on the ground, knocking the wind from his lungs. Loukin broke into a fit of coughing, closing his eyes against the burning sensation filling his lungs; only popping them open again once he felt the keen tip of Aesir's sword at his throat.

"Excellent, Your Highness!" Donovan praised from the stand, putting aside his conversation with the king to praise the young swordsbeast. Giving the railing a hearty smack with his paw, the arms master ordered, "Somebeast get the lad some water- that's three in a row he's bested today!"

Down in the ring, Aesir grinned at the praise, putting up his sword and offering his paw to the otter.

"You didn't have to go easy on me, Loukin," Aesir winked as he helped haul the soldier to his footpaws before wiping sweat from his brow.

"I wasn't, Your Highness!" Loukin laughed, retrieving his dirk from the ground and sheathing the blade in its scabbard. "I was trying to disarm you with every move!" he added as he went to pick up his severed javelin.

"Ha!" Aesir smirked and took the offered canteen of water from a page. Greedily, he drank the cool liquid until his thirst was sated before breaking the vessel from his lips and handing it back out for the servant. His muscles were screaming from exertion and relentless use, but he relished in the sensation. It made him feel alive. His training made him feel like he had a purpose, a progression to his life; a path.

"Aesir!"

The prince fought the urge to scowl at the sound of his father's voice; instead, settling on shutting his eyes to prepare himself for his admonishment of the day.

"Yes, Lord Father?" Aesir said as plainly as his countenance would allow while turning and giving a low bow at the balcony. "Would Your Majesty like something of me?"

At Aesir's snide address, Matthias fought the urge to snarl back _yes_. It was evident even at distance his son was not feeling any effects of his absent blessing for calmly he stood, sword point lowered to the ground and his shield arm hung soft at his side. No raised hackles, no tense muscles, no darting eyes taking in the garrisons of armed guards littering the side of the field. Nothing.

"Matthias, not here," Valina breathed and hooked her arm inside her husband's elbow. "Later, in our private chambers, but not here in front of all the guards…"

"You missed the council meetings this morning," Matthias called down, trying to make his presence seem innocent. "I thought I have asked you to make your attendance more regular – especially when all the barons are present."

The prince shifted his feet to a casual stance and inspected the dirt and sweat on his claws. "Really? It must have slipped my mind."

A thousand curses fired through the king's brain and he had half a mind to let them slip off his tongue, but instead Matthias cleared his throat and motioned for his son to join him on the stand. With a nod, Aesir slammed his sword into his scabbard and proceeded to the stairs while another pair of beasts moved on the ground to resume the drills.

"Matthias, please do not do this here," Valina cautioned him when Aesir bounded to the top of the stairs and tipped his head in greeting to the monarchs' bodyguards. Watching her son, the queen couldn't help but smile at him. He was tall and bold – a spitting image of his father at his age – but most importantly, he was healthy and alive. Out of six births… he was the only one that loved her enough to stay. Unlike the king, it mattered not to her whether he had bloodwrath or not – he was still her darling son and between he and Cerys, they were her world. Matthias could begrudge Aesir all he liked for not developing the deadly 'gift,' but she was not going to. Squeezing the king's arm tight, she urged, "Please Matthias…"

"You can't protect him forever, Valina," was his curt response to her pleas. Unwinding his arm from hers, he started walking towards their son to meet him halfway. Matthias didn't say another word when they met; rather he grabbed Aesir roughly by the chin and turned his face up to the sun before the prince had time to even bow. The king looked hard into his son's eyes, while the prince did not even attempt to move. Not seeing any red, Matthias pushed Aesir's face away and gave Syr Donovan a disappointed look before insisting the prince be trained harder.

For Aesir, Matthias's silence was worse than his words would have been. He was desperate to prove himself worthy of his father and to make him proud, but it seemed the older Aesir got, the harder he tried at all things he thought would bring Matthias pride, the further his father became to him. The prince yearned for the days when they had been close, when no matter what happened the king had been there for him with a supportive paw and a kind word. But those days had ended two seasons ago with the beginning of Aesir's military training and the queen's final stillbirth. No, there was no warmth between them any longer. Now all he got was a clasped chin and a silent dismissal.

Did it not matter to his father he trained harder than any other beast on the grounds? Three, sometimes four hours he worked hard at the butts and tilts, constantly being pushed by Syr Donovan for more, relentlessly challenged by all sorts of creatures.

Was it not enough that his paws were calloused due to endless blisters from his sword handle; that his shoulders ached so badly at night he would lean against the hearthstones of his fire willing their warmth to ease his throbbing muscles so he could sleep? He knew his father was disappointed in him- it was evident in his every gaze he gave him, but it was nothing Aesir could control. He just wasn't the creature he was supposed to be; why couldn't the king realize that and accept it?

Hearing the rustle of skirts to his left, Aesir glanced sideways to see his mother walking towards him.

"Lady Mother," he said formally and went down on knee for her blessing. "May the Seasons find you fair today, Your Majesty."

"Oh, Aesir," Valina said softly and placed a paw on his bowed head. After a short moment, she withdrew her palm and motioned for him to rise. "It was a good spar, Aesir," Valina said softly and rubbed the tense muscles of his sword arm with as much of a motherly comfort as she could give in public.

"Thank-you, Lady Mother," he muttered and bowed his head once more in acknowledgement. When Aesir raised his eyes to her again, he could no longer hold in the rejected expression on his face as he tried to give her a weak smile.

"Thanks, Mama," he whispered and squeezed her paw in his to let her know he appreciated her support.

Valina chuckled at the feel his paws and turned up his palms to look at the blister scars and spots of coarse skin. "These paws," she mused and rubbed her manicured fingers over them as if to work the scented oils from her own paws into his. "They're rough as a fieldpaw's!"

"They aren't that bad," he smirked, snorting lightly at her fussing. "And stop that, Mama – do you want me smelling like a maid?"

The queen rolled her eyes at him and made an exaggerated sniffed at his shoulder. "I think lavender oil is the last thing you need to worry about smelling like."

"Your Highness," a messenger said loudly from behind them and bent forward in a small reverence to the royals at their turn. "Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but a missive from the Lord Admiral Daelahn just arrived for the prince."

Valina gave a slow nod and Aesir waved the vole forward, wiping his paws off on his jerkin before taking the notice from the pewter tray. Breaking the seal and flicking the paper open, the prince scanned the document in silence.

"What is it, Aesir?" Valina asked quietly as she watched his brow start to furrow in thought. "Is there trouble on the seas?"

"No," Aesir sighed and folded the page back up to place back on the salver.

"Take this to the king and inform him I am handling it," he instructed the messenger before turning his attention back to his mother. "There have been some reports about strange lights spotted from the old watchtowers just north of Vasilis at the rock spires. I asked the Lord Admiral to make an investigation round the rocks from the sea, but he has reported there to be nothing amiss."

"Those towers haven't been occupied for an age," Valina said thoughtfully. "Time has all but worn away their stairs – there's no way up into them."

"That may be, but it appears somebeast has found a way up to make some mischief."

"A seabird perhaps," the queen suggested. "They sometimes collect trinkets that could shine off like lights if the sun were to hit them right."

"We'll see," Aesir said and then gave her a cocky smile. "I'll have to look around on land and see if I can find anything."

"Be careful," Valina cautioned as the prince turned to leave. "Aesir, where are you going?"

"To get cleaned up and then visit a friend."

"Aesir, she is supposed to be resting this afternoon," the queen chimed with a knowing grin. He paused and looked back over his shoulder to his mother. "Cerys needs to rest before the state feast tonight," she furthered.

"Baron Ulran finally arrived?"

"This morning," Valina informed him and walked up beside, leaning into the confidence of his space. "Had you been _around_ during the morning proceedings, you would have been there to greet your uncle."

"Is Aunt Lia with him?" The tremor of childhood excitement peppered his tone, which quelled almost immediately when Valina shook her head and flinched at the king's raised voice against Donovan's refute.

"Is he still debating a deeper alliance with Eurus?" Aesir inquired as he watched the arms master attempt to appease his father.

"Perhaps," the queen sighed. "They are apparently are meeting this afternoon to discuss matters."

"You don't seem impressed by the idea of Cerys wedding Ulran's son."

"I don't feel it is the right match for her."

"Do you not like him?" Aesir pressed. "You don't like Lord Ulrick?"

"In truth, I've never met Ulran's son," Valina shrugged. "Ulran has never brought him to court and since the Uprising in Eurus at my coronation, your father forbids me from going with him on progress there. The only information I can form my opinion on is the rumours of others and what little facts I can deduce from your aunt's letters about her stepson."

"And yet you still don't like him."

"I've heard he is like his grandsire," Valina whispered, lowering her voice and moving closer to Aesir so as not to be overheard. "He schemes and plots – never satisfied with his lot. Ulran has told your father that Ulrick is an _ambitious_ mouse."

"Wonderful," Aesir groaned and gave his mother a short bow. "Well, forgive me, Mama, but I had better go see to these supposed lights."

"Take a guard with you!" the queen called as her son trotted down the stairs, but he was all too quickly out of sight. "He's going to pretend he didn't hear that."

"Pretend he didn't hear what?" Matthias asked, coming up beside his wife and holding up an arm for her to take. "What's your fool of a son running off to now?"

"Oh, he's my son now!" she jested and gave him a flick on the end of his nose before slipping her paw through the crook of his elbow. As informal as the gesture was, it broke the king's demeanour slightly and he allowed one side of his mouth to lift in smile. "Why whenever does Aesir look like he's going to do something rash and impulsive is he _my_ son, yet when he surprises you with some sort of astute delegation or ruling is he _your_ son?"

To that, the king just laughed.

* * *

"Sands of white and sails of gold,  
Seas of blue and courage bold.  
Banners red and crowns of wealth,  
Bravery, wisdom the Seasons dealth.  
Truth and honour doth behold,  
Our fortunes in the prophets told.  
Blessings, gifts, divining guides,  
Strength in arms, defining minds.  
Forever will we stand for right,  
Scroll and Sword, Eutrusia's might.  
Ships and sails, Guard and pike,  
Protect our shores against cors-like.  
Ever will our hearts true,  
Land of plenty just for you,  
Eutrusia!  
Sing again and again.  
Eutrusia!  
Sing again and again.  
Eutrusia!  
Sing again and again…"

Onwards the mousemaid sang, striking her golden hammers against the cords of her gilded dulcimer while she sat in the warm sunshine on her chamber balcony. The sun was high in the sky and the wind twirled the smell of the sea around her, partnering with her voice and dancing a playful volta to the mystic melody of the song.

"And I thought princesses were supposed to rest in the afternoons?"

The maiden smiled at the question and turned her soft green eyes to the balcony up and to the right of hers, brushing her curling headfur from her face and holding it against the breeze. Above her, Aesir leaned over his railing towards her garbed in a loose green robe and wiping bath water from his ears with the towel he had casually thrown around his neck. His bright blue eyes were twinkling with mischief as he watched her with a confident smile curling the corners of his lips.

"Oh, what do you know about it?" she retorted with a giggle. "Shouldn't you be at council or training or meetings or… _something?"_

"And miss your performance?" he added with a wink. "Not for all the prophets' wisdom."

She rolled her eyes at him, exaggerating the normally subtle gesture with a flick of her chin. "All the prophets' wisdom? Ha! Had you said the Sword of Rí I _might_ have believed you, Aesir."

"If you recall, Cerys, our Lord Father says knowledge is just as powerful as a sword."

"Are you _quoting_ Father?"

The pair shared a smirk and quick ruffle of laughter, before the princess turned serious again. "What are you doing back in your chambers at this time of day?" she asked him. "You are never around Vasilis at this hour, let alone in your room!

"Well, training is done for the day," he confessed, "And Father has decided to have a private audience with Baron Ulran, so thank the Seasons I don't have to be there."

"So," Cerys stated and pricked an eyebrow in interest. "You actually have the afternoon to _yourself?"_

"No!" Aesir exclaimed and shook the last water droplets from his fur. "I have to do an inspection of the rock spires, but believe me when I say I'd much rather be here listening to you sing and play your dulcimer."

"Liar!" Cerys challenged him, rolling onto her balcony lounge to ease the strain on her neck. Wiggling herself into the cushions, she gave an unladylike snort. "And you shouldn't complain. At least you get to go do things. I have to stay in the palace all the time and be mind-numbing. I'm fifteen seasons old and a complete bore."

"Would you like to come?" Aesir said plainly and jumped onto the balcony to dangle his footpaws over the edge with practiced ease. Often he and Cerys conversed from their balconies, away from the formality of their lives where they could just be themselves.

"Tease," Cerys sighed, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun with a paw. "I know you're joking."

"I am not," Aesir assured her. Resting his back against the outer wall, Aesir closed his eyes and enjoyed the sunshine on his face, drying his fur from his bath. "We were youngsters the last time we snuck off down the coast. I thought this would give us the opportunity to do so – or have you lost your sense of adventure?"

"Never!" she scoffed and then giggled at a distant memory. "But I'll only go if you let me find the _treasure_ this time and we talk about something other than weapons and swordplay!"

"The shell and driftwood plunder is yours," Aesir chortled and jumped from the railing onto his balcony. "And as to the conversation, I don't care what we talk about as long as it doesn't involve me or what I _should _be doing."

Cerys sat up and gave him a sympathetic look. "Aesir –" she started, but stopped when his expression hardened and Aesir waved a paw in the air to dismiss her empathy.

"I have to organize some guards to accompany us," he said curtly. "I'll meet you by the old sea stair before the next bell."

* * *

"You're late," Aesir said mockingly as Cerys trotted through the rock maze and past his perch on a high rock where he was inspecting his sword blade.

"Oh!" Cerys started and wheeled around at him. "Aesir- you scared me!"

"You're late," the prince repeated and sheathed his sword before leaping down from the rock. Adjusting the satchel slung across his body, Aesir added, "I almost gave up on you."

"I couldn't sneak away fast enough," Cerys huffed. "My pawmaids came wanting to know my gown and jewellery selection for this evening and –"

"Excuses, excuses," Aesir laughed rolling his eyes. Nodding his head towards the slate threshold where the rock path turned to beach, he offered the princess his paw, but Cerys jumped easily onto the beach. Instantly, a large grin erupted on her face and she wiggled her footpaws in the warm white sands.

"You should see the look on your face," Aesir chuckled at her expression. "Are you going to drop to your knees and kiss the beach?"

"I would if it would let me stay down here forever," Cerys jested and gave Aesir a playful swat in the shoulder. "You can't tell me you don't love the sea. I see you all the time sitting on your balcony railing looking out into it."

"You know I love it," Aesir smiled at her. "How could I not? I am a Eutrusian."

Aesir watched as Cerys playfully twirled, letting her pale green gown coil around her legs as the sea breeze lifted the mass of her curling headfur to flutter about her body. Laughing, the princess twisted a large chunk of it and secured away from her face with heavy gold pin.

"Where are the guards?" Cerys questioned when Aesir gestured them up the coast to the north.

"I decided to _forget_ to let them know we are leaving," Aesir informed her with a smirk and patted his sword hilt. "What's wrong? Don't you feel safe enough with the Captain of the Royal Guard?"

"You're being over confident again," Cerys clucked at him and tapped him on the nose as she strode passed him. "Father is always warning you about that."

"Says the one walking boldly ahead of me," Aesir retorted, letting his eye rove down her long headfur to watch the gentle motion of her strides. He blinked and let his eyes widen for a moment in appreciation of the curve from her waist to her hip. She really was becoming a beautiful maid and it was little wonder she turned every males' head when she came into a room.

_Stop thinking like that_, Aesir berated himself for his thoughts. What was he thinking? Cerys was practically his sister. They had grown up together, they had done everything together. Although they were not blood related, she was still raised as a princess, as one of the royal family. Since her finding, his parents had dismissed the council's insistence that she be simply reared as a ward, arguing that she was a gift from the Seasons and they would honour the gracious gift by making her a princess. Besides their unorthodox ties, Matthias right now was discussing her betrothal to Lord Ulrick with Baron Ulran. He had to halt these growing thoughts he had of her – they were all for nothing.

"So why are we going to the rock spires anyway?" Cerys asked excitedly. When she turned back to him and smiled, Aesir felt his chest tighten and his pulse race.

_Stop it_, he told himself again. _Just stop it_.

"There've been reports of odd lights coming from old watchtowers and I want to have a look around," Aesir replied plainly and strode off after her. "It shouldn't take us more than an hour or so."

"Lights from the watchtowers?" Cerys questioned and raised an eyebrow. "The old ruined ones?"

"Strange, I know," Aesir sighed and adjusted his sword at his side. "Admiral Daelahn has already patrolled it from the sea and given me his report, but I have to give mine to Father as well."

"It's a prince's job to patrol rocks?" Cerys said scrunching up her nose.

"No," Aesir affirmed. "It's the Captain of the Royal Guard's duty to ensure the safety of Eutrusia."

"Lights from old towers are now going to jeopardize the peace of the land are they!" Cerys snorted and held her paws wide in exasperation. "I'm glad we brought the army!"

He gave her an unimpressed look and continued on across the sands. Aesir knew she was only jesting in good faith, but to him these matters were serious. It was his duty to protect his kingdom, no matter what the danger. He already felt he had let his realm down by the absence of his bloodwrath, and he was determined not to give them any other source of disappointment. Sensing his change of demeanour, Cerys tried to continue their conversation.

"So, Father's letting you continue with your captaincy despite… well, you know," Cerys started bravely, but by the end of the sentence was biting her outspoken tongue.

"I am still the Captain of the Royal Guard for now," Aesir breathed. "It's my Grandfather Martin's title passed down to me when he gave me his sword on his deathbed. They were hoping he had passed along something else as well, but…"

"Aesir, you can't blame yourself for things that are out of your control," Cerys cut him off. "You can't control whether or not you have this… bloodwrath… that they talk about your grandfather having.

"And frankly, I don't know why you would want to have it," Cerys continued, trying to make Aesir feel better about himself. "Why would you want a curse that makes you see nothing but red when you fight? Why would you want to be possessed by something that makes you kill beyond measure?"

"It's not a curse Cerys," Aesir countered. "It's a gift from the Seasons. It's to keep creatures safe…"

"But you will keep creatures safe, Aesir," Cerys pushed her belief. "I've seen you train – you're incredible. Even Syr Donovan is in awe at your abilities. There isn't a beast in Eutrusia that can best you in the tilt yard."

"Ah, but Cerys our enemies don't come from Eutrusia and we don't fight on a tilt yard," Aesir relented and shook his head. "Enough babble about me, let's talk about something else."

"Like what?" Cerys tittered. "My embroidery? My dulcimer?"

"Anything," Aesir stressed and then added in a low whisper, "as long as it's not about me."


	6. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"'Ere be ta rocks!" a lanky stoat hollered from the quarterdeck of the small galley as they rode high on the waves to the southwest of the Aurelius. Through his spyglass, the corsair could see the mighty city, but he had no intentions of getting any closer. If he could see them, surely the vigilant Eutrusian watchbeast would eventually spy the gray-coloured ship and the last thing the stoat wanted was the Royal Fleet on his stern. Besides, they were not after the heavily guarded spoils of the south; that day they were interested in the exchange of a much smaller and less guarded prize.

"Charbak- git yar paws up ta mast an' see if you c'n see where the shiners are placed!" the commander barked at a grey-furred ferret. "Cap'n Talt said t'ey be 'ere."

"A'ight, Bladesnout," Charbak sniped and gripped the riggings of the main mast to start his ascent. "I din't know why Cap'n Talt jis din't take ta gems 'imself."

"Cap'n Talt wen' back ta Wrekhip Isle ta git another crew," Bladesnout chirped and kicked at the ferret's tail. "'Ee gonna go afta more o' ta gems afore ta any o'her beast finds out 'bout 'em. It be all fer one's self now. T'ey say ta ol' ratlord be dead."

"T'en wha do it matter?" Charbak argued as he began to climb. "If 'ee dead t'en 'ee no gonna take 'em."

"'Ee 'ad ratlings. Gulls 'n petrels be squawking 'bout a new Lord o' Clapsbay."

"So? 'Gardless, ta ratlord be in ta Eastern Sea; no concern o' us."

"Cap'n Talt wants ta keep 'im 'ere too! If 'ee tink t'at ta Cap'n be a loyal beast ta 'im, 'ee won push fer more control o' ta west. T'at's why wez needing ta git ta jewels 'n meet 'im at Irgash: Ta makes 'im tink we be loyal in 'is waters."

"'Gain, we be in ta Western Sea; tis not 'is sea…"

"Ta Lord o' Clapsbay be controllin' e'ery sea!" Bladesnout snarled, attracting the attention of the crew. "W'ere 'ee c'nt be, 'ee has ta Fates' eyes ta see fer him."

"'Eems like eh lot o' rotten cuttlefish ta me," Charbak grumbled, clambering up the post to the boom and squinting his watery eyes at the rock cliffs.

"C'n ya see it, yet?" Bladesnout called from the deck. "Tis ta light 'ere?"

"Naw," the ferret replied. "Notta sight o' it. Mayhap eh mite clos'r."

"Git yar hide up ta top yard spar!" Bladesnout shouted. "'N din't ya be comin' down 'til ya see ta flicker!" Turning his gaze back to the main deck, the stout hollered at the onlookers, "Git back ta work ya curs! Ta ship ain't gonna make berth 'erself!

"Hagtooth, Gipson!" the stoat continued as he shouted orders to the rest of the crew. "Pull ta sails up 'n whip ta slaves 'n git us round ta the spires wid all speed!"

* * *

The two royal mice walked down the beach talking of everything and nothing at the same time, completely at ease in each other's company. Cerys would laugh at Aesir's jests, constantly brushing her headfur from her face as the warm southern wind whipped along the shoreline, causing her gown skirts to billow from the steady gusts while the sands twirled around them. Aesir simply smiled. There was something about being alone with Cerys that made him feel like nothing else mattered.

"Oh, the sand is too hot!" Cerys exclaimed and danced on her footpaws to the waterline. Once her footpaws touch the wet sands and the waves lapped up over them, the princess gave a visible sigh of relief.

"The salt is going to ruin that dress," Aesir stated as the waves rolled up over her ankles and soaked the gown's satin hem and upwards into the rich brocade. "Mama will just admonish you for that."

"I don't care," Cerys laughed. "The sand is too hot for my paws. Besides, it's your fault for organizing an expedition at high sun!"

"You didn't have to come."

"And let you have all the fun? Never!" she scoffed and waved her jewelled paw in the air. "Seriously Aesir- how are your paws not on fire!"

"I don't think about it!" the prince shrugged. "I just ignore it, I suppose."

"You just don't feel pain," Cerys mocked and rolled her green eyes at him. "You never have."

"I just have a high tolerance for it," Aesir replied. "Even when I fell from the tower at Saelmere Keep and broke my arm, it didn't really hurt that much."

"You shouldn't have been climbing that thing anyways. I swear Mama still hasn't forgiven Father for not watching you closer…"

"He was busy talking with Admiral Daelahn. He had just been invested to the position and Father was making sure everything was running smoothly…"

"So you took it upon yourself to climb the bay's watch tower?"

"I wanted to see the ships," Aesir chuckled at the memory of his own impatience. "_Mawredd_ was just launched. I wanted to see our flagship. I didn't think they were going to blow the bay-horn in my face."

"And the poor watchbeasts probably weren't expecting to have the Etifedd climbing up _the side_ of the tower, either!" Cerys grinned back at him. "Really Aesir, you are too brave for your own good sometimes."

"I believe Father called it foolish."

"And Mama says your fearless," she retorted. "I guess it comes down to what you think of yourself since we all have different opinions."

Before the prince could answer a loud rumble came from his stomach and he smirked at the timing of its interruption. Slapping a paw to his dark green tunic, Aesir gave Cerys a wink.

"Time for a snack."

"So it would seem," Cerys mused and accepted Aesir's outstretched paw to guide her back onto the sands. "Did you –"

"Spice cake, oranges and peach cordial," Aesir listed off as he pulled out the contents of the small satchel he had slung across his upper body. Handing Cerys the thin flask and small oranges, Aesir untied the twine holding the wrapper around the petite loaf. "I had a feeling we would get hungry."

"You mean _you_ would get hungry!" the princess jested and bit into the offered spice cake, relishing the tingle of cinnamon and clove on her tongue mixed with the sweet cane frosting coating the outside of the pastry.

"Alright, so I'm starving," Aesir confessed and took the flask back from Cerys to take a drink. Pointing to the bend in the coastline ahead of them, he took a bite of the cake and added, "Come on. Let's keep moving. We aren't far from the old towers now."

One look at him and Cerys burst into laughter. "Aesir- the frosting!"

"What?" the prince questioned and wiped his paw over his snout to reveal a smear of white icing on the tip of his nose.

"Some manners, Your Highness!" Cerys chided him. "Fancy a prince of the realm, a captain of the king's own guard not knowing his table manners!"

"I didn't know we were at a table," Aesir said while trying to hide his smirk. "Last I checked we were walking by the sea."

Shaking his head at his own scheme, Aesir looked at Cerys slyly. "Fancy a princess of Eutrusia not knowing enough to stay out of the water…"

"Oh, Aesir I only got my hem wet… oh wait. No! Aesir I know that look in your eye… Aesir, no!" Cerys squealed and dropped her food, picking up her long skirts and jumped away from the lunging prince.

"Aha! Too slow, Aesir!"

"If I catch you Cerys, you're going for a swim!"

"Race you to the rocks!" Cerys called the challenge over her shoulder as she sprinted down the sands. She loved to run. Her fleetness of paw was the one thing she truly prided herself on, though it was not a very ladylike quality. She was supposed to be poised and refined, not flighty and erratic. Running was a peasants' mannerism, her father would say, definitely not something befitting a princess.

Seeing the tall rocks of the old watchtowers spiking up out of the sea, Cerys turned to yell her victory to Aesir, but when she rounded the bend and saw a small ship beached on the shoreline. The princess' eyes went wide as she looked at the sea hardened vessel with its black sails and dull gray haul. A scream begun to rise in the mousemaid's throat when Aesir caught her around the waist and pulled her to him, flattening them against the rock face of the coast. Before Cerys could utter so much as a whimper, Aesir clapped a paw over her mouth.

"Don't make a sound," the prince breathed as he rested his face against her curling headfur. "Cerys, just be quiet. We don't know where they are…"

Sensing the urgency of his voice, she pushed against his strong chest and let him guide her backwards. The fur on the back of her neck was standing on end and Cerys wasn't sure if she could her footpaws walking towards them in the sand or if it was simply her own pulse pounding in her ears. Corsairs. There was a corsair ship on the coast and they were alone with no guards, no protection save Aesir's sword.

Feeling her start to panic, Aesir held her tighter to him. Her body was trembling and her paws cold as she clung to his arm.

"Cerys, stay calm," Aesir hissed in her ear, his own straining against the noise of the sea for some sort of sound that would indicate the seascums' location.

"Aesir," Cerys gasped under her breath. "Aesir, they're, they're..."

"Corsairs," Aesir whispered. "Cerys, hush –"

"Charbak," a husky voice echoed off the rocks around them. Aesir's ears pricked at the sound. They were close – and coming their way. "'Ere'd ya say ya saw ta shiners?"

"Onna last tower, Bladesnout. Iz only told ya 'ive times."

"'N fifty paces shud take us 'round ta bend…"

"Ain't 'ere suppose ta be some sort o' cave er someting? Bladesnout, din't Cap'n Talt say someit 'bout tat?"

"Aye, Hagtooth. Follow ta shiners 'ere, t'en fifty paces south, t'en ta t' grasses. 'Hind ta grasses be a crevice. Inna crevice be ta chest –"

Aesir continued to back Cerys up until he felt himself come up against the rock face. He closed his eyes in dreading recognition of the crunching sound his footpaw made when he stepped backwards. Sea grass. The corsairs were headed straight for them. Aesir pulled Cerys around his body and stepped boldly in front of her, drawing his sword and holding it in front of him with both paws.

"Cerys, when I tell you to run, you run. Understand?" Aesir said sharply, not worrying about the volume of his voice any longer when the others were so near. There was no use trying to hide now.

"Aesir, I'm not leaving you," Cerys begun to protest before three vermin in waterlogged tatters came around the bend and started at the mice's presence.

"Hey Bladesnout, looks wha we 'ave 'ere!" Hagtooth jeered at the stoat. "A pair o' mice t'inkin' o' stealin' ta Cap'n's treasure!"

"Looks like pair o' nobles ta way 'eir dressed," Charbak snickered and pointed a claw at Aesir. "T'inkin' o' gettin' a mo'ent alone wid yar sweet'eart?"

"Not likely," Aesir derided, pushing Cerys further behind his back. "You shouldn't be on these shores vermin."

"It be ya 'ho shudna be here, mouse," Bladesnout laughed at the bold creature before him.

"You corsairs know better than to come onto Eutrusian lands," Aesir said plainly, ushering Cerys away from the rock face and giving her a free path to run south. "You will die for your disobedience."

"'Ere tat? Wez be deadbeasts!" Hagtooth chuckled hysterically. "'N I 'pose ya be ta beast ta kill us?"

"I might be."

As Aesir and Cerys sidestepped carefully away from the rock cliff, a dark line caught Bladesnout's eye; a small fissure in the rock with a widening base.

"'Isten, mouse," the stoat commander said plainly. "Iz din't 'ave ta time ta deal wid heroics. Jus' put up ya sword 'n walk-aways. Leave ta blade… 'n ta maid. A pretty 'un like 'er bring a 'efty ransom – not ta mention t'em jewels on 'er!"

"No," Aesir snapped, tightening his hold on his sword. He could feel his blood pumping quickly through his veins and his hackles rising. This was leading to a fight. His first fight against vermin and oddly, the prince wasn't afraid; he was excited.

"T'en we kill ya 'n t'en take ta sword 'n ta maid," Charbak chortled and drew his cutlass. "Tis stupid ta be brave against ba' odds, mouse."

"I'm more than a match for the three of you," Aesir sneered and let his left paw loosen off the handle to guide Cerys further away from him and further south, making himself a direct blockage against their attack on her retreat. Confidently, he picked up a fighter's stance and let his blade twist back on his wrist axis with practiced ease. His whole body was tingling with anticipation and conviction like he had fought vermin a hundred times before. The prince shook his head at the feeling - what was happening to him?

"Ha!" Hagtooth jeered and slapped the Bladesnout on the back. "'Ee tinks t'eres jus' ta three o' us!"

The stoat snickered briefly before giving a shrill whistle over his shoulder and a score of vermin filtered forward from around the bend. Aesir bared his teeth at the sight of vermin armed with sabres, tridents and whips. At the sound of a gasp behind him, Aesir looked back at Cerys and saw her eyes widening with fear and her bottom lip giving a little quiver.

"Aesir, we have to run," Cerys whispered, clutching at his left arm to pull him with her down the beach. "Aesir, there's too many of them –"

But Aesir had already turned his attention back to the group before them, assessing the beasts and picking out the weaker ones. They were armed, but either portly or underfed. By their appearance, they were seasoned seabeasts and the spills and stains on their shirts indicated they all enjoyed too much wine and ale. In their state, they wouldn't be quick, but with their numbers, there was sure to be one or two who could catch the pair of them if they tried to make a run for it.

He had to act as a rear guard for Cerys' retreat. If he stayed and fought, she would have a better chance at making it back to Vasilis, or at least close enough that she could raise an alarm. The guards could storm the beach and Admiral Daelahn would catch the corsairs on the seas if they broke away.

Inwardly, Aesir cursed at himself. He had been unwise in not bringing a guard with them; the guard that as he stared down danger was waiting patiently for him in the courtyard to accompany him on this mission. Had he brought them, they would already have engaged them and he could ensure Cerys' safety. As it was, all he could guarantee was a fight ahead, a good fifty pace head start for Cerys and an uncertain outcome.

"Wha d'ya t'ink o' your chances now, mouse?" Bladesnout sniggered at him. "Still t'ink yar o' match fer us?"

"More than a match," Aesir laughed, confident now his time had come.

Infuriated at the mouse's bravery, Bladesnout drew his rapier and whip, signalling the horde to advance on Aesir. "Git him!"

"Run, Cerys!" Aesir yelled as he pushed her away from him and southward towards the palace. Cerys stumbled backward a few steps before stopping.

"Aesir, I can't leave you!" She cried as the first of the vermin charged at the prince. "Aesir!"

"Cerys, go!" Aesir yelled at her again as he laid a rat low with a swift thrust of his sword. "Get out of here – back to the palace… raise the alarm!"

With panic weighing down her footpaws, Cerys turned to run away from the advancing horde when she was grabbed roughly by her loosened headfur and pulled backwards onto her tail. Looking up, she saw the ferret they had called Charbak raise his cutlass high in the air ready to strike down on her; Cerys covered her head with her paws and screamed.

Aesir blocked a trident thrust and spun under and into a weasel, hammering an elbow into his snout to stun him before kicking his knee backwards with a sickening crunch. He had just enough time to free his sword from the howling vermin's weapon when a cutlass whipped downwards towards his shoulder. Dodging the strike, the prince twisted to the left and brought his sword down on the rat's exposed legs, cutting him deeply across the back of his knee, slicing tendons with a back-pawed slash.

It was then he heard Cerys scream. Turning slightly, he saw the gray-furred ferret raise his blade above his head and pose for the strike. Instantly, a burning sensation filled his eyes as a hatred he had never experienced gripped his chest and clutched his paws tighter on his sword.

"Cerys, no!" Aesir yelled and sprinted from the crew, blocking Charbak's downward chop with his sword a hairsbreadth from the princess's head. With a great strength he didn't know he possessed, Aesir pushed the ferret backwards into the advancing horde and hauled Cerys to her footpaws.

"Run!" He commanded her through gritted teeth as he held her strongly by the arm. His voice sounded strange to him. It was deeper. Raspier. Everything around him seemed clearer, the images crisper; everything had an odd red tinge to it.

Cerys looked him in awe. Something about him had changed; his expression was stronger, more dangerous, and his eyes a bright red colour, the colour of blood. The eyes of a killer. His voice sounded different and there was strength in his paw as he held her that hadn't been there before. He was holding her arm so tightly she knew she would have a bruise, yet his knuckles weren't even white from the strain of his hold. It was like he wasn't even trying.

"Cerys, run," Aesir ordered, tossing her effortlessly down the beach towards the palace. "Run and don't look back."

"Aesir…"

"Go!" He yelled again, whirling his sword aloft and bring it down to onto the arm of a stoat advancing on him. Cerys's eyes went wide and her breath caught in her throat as she watched the stoat's arm cleave off under Aesir's blade and him swing his blade low to cut out the stoat's legs. Wheeling on his next opponent, Aesir ran the corsair through and moved on to the next approaching vermin.

Aesir's feral growl brought her out of her trace as a sabre sliced through his tunic to cut his unprotected shield arm. The sound of his snarling gasp forced her to comprehend the reality before her. This was not the tilt ground. The vermin were not Royal Guards there to simply disarm and practice drills. No, these creatures were there to kill and Aesir was their target. He was holding his own, but for how long? She had to get help for him. Turning on her heels Cerys darted down the beach towards Vasilis as fast as her footpaws would take her, her ears echoing the sound of ringing metal and Aesir's battle cry.

* * *

Matthias walked quickly through the palace courtyard on his way back from meeting with Baron Ulran in his state rooms. The king wore a light smile on his face as he went; once more the royal family would be allied with the eastern state through marriage for in two seasons when she turned into her sixteenth season, Cerys would wed Lord Ulrick of Ruarden Manor, Ulran's only son and heir to the baronage of Eurus.

Working his way across the white marbled stones, a gathering of guards lounging idly in the shade of the wall caught his eye. It was uncharacteristic of any Royal Guards to loiter about the outside of the palace, or any Aurelian for that matter, especially when it was high sun. Heat stroke would quickly set in to any unsheltered beast, let alone a creature dressed in the regalia of the Royal Guard.

"Lieutenant!" the king called out in his approach to a white-caped squirrel. "Lieutenant Olan, what is the meaning your assemblage?"

The squirrel turned towards the address and bowed low to the king. "Your Majesty," he greeted. "We are waiting for His Highness, Prince Aesir, to make a patrol of the rock spires and old watchtowers, sire."

"He hasn't done that yet!" Matthias gaped. "He should have seen to that an hour ago. The feast will begin shortly –"

"My king," Valina called as she hastily descended the stairs leading from the Grand Gallery to the courtyard and practically trotted over to her husband. Behind her, a mixture of her own pawmaids and those of Cerys' household followed in her wake; all of them bobbing a curtsy when Valina stopped before the king. "Matthias, have you seen Cerys?" she continued. "She's all but disappeared."

"No, I haven't seen her all day," Matthias replied abruptly. "And where is that son of yours? He's had these poor creatures waiting for him in the sun for hours now."

"Aesir?" Valina said with a puzzled look. "Is he not in his chambers?"

"Er, no, Your Majesty," Lieutenant Olan offered up at a glance from the king. "We had a herald check on him for us. When they returned saying he was not there, we assumed the prince was with one of Your Majesties and so didn't press the issue."

"Where in the name of the –"

"Your Majesty!" a watchbeast shouted from the west tower overlooking the coast. "There's a creature running the shoreline!"

Matthias pushed himself through Valina's entourage, striding across the courtyard to the stone steps up to the ramparts and climbed the twisting stairs of the tower. Seeing the monarch ascend the last step, the vole flopped his upper body forward and snapped it upwards again; pointing out the window arch towards the northwest.

"It's just a spec to the eye, sire," he related as the king gazed out from the watchstand. "But with a glass, you c'n see her."

_"Her?"_

"Well, you c'n see a dress, sire," the watcher corrected himself. "She's still too far away to see features, but green skirts are a-billowin' out behind her."

"Show me," the king said sharply and the watcher pulled a spyglass to full length. Directing Matthias' gaze to the place he had spotted the figure, the vole was silent as the king took his view. It was still far away and hard to make out despite the magnification, but Matthias' heart jumped to his throat when he recognized the long formal gown and bouncing dark curls on the beast's head.

"Great Seasons, it's Cerys," he whispered and tossed the mirror cylinder back at the watchbeast, bellowing orders as he descended the steps.

"Guards! To arms! To the shore- NOW!"

* * *

Loukin was the first to reach her and Cerys collapsed in the otter's paws, trying desperately to catch her breath.

"It's alright, Your Highness," the guard tried to assure her. "Easy now, princess."

Cerys shook her head at him – it was not alright. Despite her quaking legs, Cerys pushed herself out of the otter's strong arms and tried to pull the solider down the beach in her muted state.

"Princess Cerys," Loukin said quickly. "What is the matter, Your Highness?"

Unable to use her voice for her gasping breaths, Cerys shook her head again and continued to pull the guard forward.

"Cerys!" Matthias shouted as he appeared from around the rock maze of the sea stair, a contingent of Royal Guards following in his wake. "Cerys, what are you doing out here?"

"Corsairs!" Cerys finally blurted out. "By the tall rocks. Aesir … is … he's …"

"Cerys, where is Aesir?" Matthias said sternly and clasped her elbows tightly in his fear for his son's life. "Where is Aesir, Cerys?"

"Fighting them!" she gasped, feeling tears starting to streak her on her cheeks as her stress began to escape her body. "Father, he's fighting them! He wouldn't leave … he's protecting me …"

"All of you follow me!" Matthias yelled, drawing his own sword and pointing down the beach. Pushing Cerys roughly towards the palace he yelled over his shoulder, "Get back into the palace Cerys and stay there!"


	7. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Cries and rings of metal echoed off the cliff rocks; the white sands of the beach turned up in deep furrows with pockets of dark pools and ribbons of red streaming down to the sea. The air was rank with fear, sweat and blood as the corsairs fought the mouse; desperately trying to use their numbers to their advantage, but to no avail. It was clear to any of them he was trained with a blade, his movements dictated as much, but the speed of his actions, the force of his strikes; his relentless assault on them as he continually battered them down spoke of a different kind of talent.

"Circle 'im round!" Bladesnout snapped and rallied the ten remaining beasts still standing to his order. "Hagtooth- use yar bola!"

The response the stoat received was the sound of blood gurgling in the rat's sliced throat before he dropped forward on the sands with the rest of his slain shipmates.

Aesir held his sword before him – his chest heaving with exertion and his red eyes darting at every move his opponents made, readying for their next attack. His tunic was ripped, left sleeve hanging by bare threads at the shoulder seam and sword arm was cut deeply in a spiralled gash from a whip which had wound its coils around his flesh before he had killed its user. He refused to back down despite his wounds and could sense the corsairs were losing their will to fight with every comrade who dropped to the beach. They would probably run if he told them to; they would probably never set paws on Eutrusia's soils again, but none of that matter. He was, as he father had told him all those years ago when he first acknowledged his grandfather's title, unable to stand down, unable to pull back. He had to protect.

"Aesir!" a familiar voice shouted from down the beach. "Aesir, fall back!"

"Hellsgates!" Bladesnout cursed at the sight of a contingent of Royal Guard storming the sands towards them. "Back ta t'ship ya fleabags! It be ta Guard!"

The corsairs needed no further encouragement; running back to their vessel while taking care to kick up extra paws of sand at the mouse pursing closely behind them. Once they reached the bend, Bladesnout veered to the right and slide to a stop at the break in the rocks. Aesir was just pulling his sword out of a fleeing weasel's back when he saw the stoat haul out a small chest from the crevice.

"Aesir- let him go!" Matthias shouted as the Eutrusians closed the gap on the scene and they watched Aesir start to advance on the stoat. Even from the rear view, Matthias could see blood from Aesir's wounds matted with sand on his fur and clothes where he had fallen and picked himself up again. The king called out again, but his cries were falling on deaf ears; Aesir was not listening to the sounds of the conscious world.

"Lemme pass, mouse," Bladesnout cackled and drew his cutlass. "Lemme pass 'n I be lettin' ya live."

"No," Aesir sneered and blocked the stoat's retreat with his body, his red eyes scorching the air between himself and his enemy. "You're not going anywhere save Hellsgates."

"Yar choice," Bladesnout smirked wickedly and charged forward at the prince, swinging the small chest by its handle into the mouse's body and deflecting the swipe of Aesir's sword. Aesir leapt sideways to make room to strike back, but as he did, Bladesnout followed through with his cutlass aimed at the mouse's unprotected chest.

Aesir's reactions were quick, but not without consequence. Blocking the stab, Aesir pushed the cutlass down with his sword and towards his brace leg. The prince snarled as the sharp edge connected with his thigh, slicing his tunic and cutting him deeply though his flesh. He knew it hurt; he knew it stung, yet he couldn't feel it. All he could feel was the burning desire to kill, to rid his lands of the filth washed in with the tide.

Twisting sideways, he brought his sword up in a high arch, whirling it once above his head before striking downwards with a backpawed slash to cut the retreating stoat across the back. Bladesnout cried out in pain and fell forward into the sands, clawing his way forward as Aesir stabbed down into the sands furiously with his blade. The stoat rolled onto his back away from the tip and kicked out Aesir's footpaws, knocking him backwards and leaping onto the prince.

"Aesir!" Matthias yelled, calling the Guard to action. "Protect the Etifedd!"

Bladesnout growled and landed hard punches to Aesir's unprotected head, breaking the skin at his temple and bloodying his nose. The prince kicked upwards with all four, sending the corsair off him to the left and grasping his fallen sword in his right paw, Aesir swung the long blade across his body at the stoat's neck in a final blow.

"Your Highness!" a guard cried as Aesir dug his bloodied sword into the sands and hauled himself to his footpaws, staggering slightly from his wounds, but not giving in to their pain or his growing exhaustion. "Your Highness, it's over, come back – Gah!"

"It's not over!" Aesir growled and gnashed his teeth at the mouse, causing the guard to cringe at his tone. Pointing his blade to where the small galley the corsairs were hurriedly making ready to cast off, the prince added with a sneer, "There's more."

"Aesir, the fight is won…" Matthias started strongly, trying to counter his son's wrath. Seeing the dangerous gleam in Aesir's eyes, the king was taken aback and unable to finish his sentence. Gawking at the other guards briefly, he could tell they were all thinking the same thing; bloodwrath. Aesir had bloodwrath.

"But the battle is not over!" the prince exclaimed and struck his sword against the sabre of fallen beast to ring the sound of metal throughout the air. "Guards, forward! _Ymlaen_!"

"Aesir!" Matthias cried as the Guard charged forward with their prince and captain, towards the ship. Through the shallows they sped, leaping waves and clamouring up the riggings of the galley, fighting vermin and cutting pulleys and ropes to hinder the vessel's creaking retreat. The king watched as Aesir continued to fight, calling orders and whirling his broad sword aloft in a display of strength and might.

"_Eutrusia!_" Aesir roared as they battled on the decking, swinging his blade viciously at any vermin that came within his sword's long reach. Bulling his body into the chest of a rat to knock it over, Aesir snapped its neck with a kick to the head, before advancing down the vessel to the main hatch. Without hesitation the mouse, slide down the ladder and into the holds of the ship.

"Your Highness!" Loukin exclaimed and threw a snivelling weasel overboard into the waters. "Olan- the prince!"

"Ruddy mouse," the squirrel lieutenant barked. "He's going to get himself killed!"

An array of gasps and cries rang up from the ship's holds and the tremendous sounds of steel hammering steel.

"Loukin! Kennard!" Olan shouted over the melee of battle. "Get below and see what the lad's gotten into!"

Once the guards jumped into the blackness beneath the deck, Olan called commands to the remaining soldiers and rallied them on to finish the corsairs off. As the last of the vermin fell lifeless from a spear thrust, the lieutenant felt a weak tug on his tunic. Wheeling around with his sword aloft, Olan stopped himself at the sight of a half-starved vole blinking at him in the bright light.

"Is it a'right t' come out?" the creature asked in a small raspy voice that hadn't tasted water in its tongue's recent memory. "Are they… d-dead?"

"Yes, it's safe now," Olan responded and knelt down to help pull the feeble beast out of the ship's holds. The lieutenant hauled four more beasts to the deck before Kennard appeared, then a score of beasts later, Loukin.

"Where's the prince?" Olan demanded once the otter was firmly back on the deck, pulling more oarslaves from the dark to the light.

"He's making sure there aren't any vermin hiding below," Loukin replied. "Slew the slave master with one strike he did, and broke each of these creatures chains himself with his sword."

"Is he under control?" Olan pressed. "Loukin, you're a shieldbeast –"

Before the lieutenant could finish, the last of the oarbeasts were lifted from the hatch and Aesir appeared on the ladder covered from ear to tail in water, blood and sand. His expression was hard and his eyes red with fury as he struggled to keep his bearings.

"Your Highness?" Olan questioned as Aesir shuffled to the railing, sheathing his sword and gripping the wood tight in attempt to stay upright. "Prince Aesir?"

Aesir couldn't answer; pain was threatening to flood his senses, but his bloodwrath pushed to the back of his mind, unwilling to let go of the grasp it held on the prince's body, on his mind. The mouse swayed on the spot, fighting the urge to continue his barrage of attacks on the Royal Guards. He knew they were his soldiers, his fighters, but the red in his eyes seared with the lust for more blood. He didn't trust himself; he had to get off the ship and away from them. Gritting his teeth against his inward battle, Aesir half stumbled, half limped across the wooden planks to the opening in the railing, rappelling down into the water.

"Loukin- after him!" Olan commanded and motioned for the other guards to tend to the slaves. "The king is down there!"

In an instant the otter was into the water, catching up to the prince just as Aesir staggered forward in the shallows.

"Your Highness…" Loukin started and moved swiftly to the royal mouse's side to glance into his eyes. They were still red. "Prince Aesir, the corsairs are dead. You must calm your, your wrath!"

Aesir just shook his head and barred his teeth at the guard, warning him not to come too close. Before him, Matthias stood with two personal bodyguards, his sword sheathed as he awaited the approach of his son.

"You must calm yourself before you see the king," Loukin said strongly and grasped Aesir's sword arm tightly. "Your Highness…"

Aesir's reaction was quicker than Loukin ever expected. He just had time to unsheathe his dirk straight upwards as Aesir's dagger struck the metal at the otter's throat.

"Aesir!" Matthias thundered, trotting forward over the sands towards the prince. "Aesir, enough!"

"No, Your Majesty!" his bodyguard called and sprinted forward in front of the king. "Don't go near him - he's mad…"

"He's my son!" Matthias snapped and shoved the hedgehog aside. "He is not _mad!_"

Walking swiftly over the beach, Matthias stopped when he was three strides away from his bloodied son and the gaping otter. Holding his paws wide, the king banished his own fear of Aesir's condition and tried to give a comforting smile.

"Come here, Aesir," Matthias beckoned. "Leave the guard alone. Come here, son."

Aesir did not turn his gaze, but flicked an ear at the familiar voice. It wasn't much of a reaction, but it was still an acknowledgement. Matthias watched as Loukin swallowed a large lump in his throat. The otter was probably counting the seconds he had left in his life.

"Aesir, it's time to go home now, son," Matthias pressed. "It's time to go home."

This time Aesir's expression softened and he glanced sideways at the king.

"That's it, Aesir," Matthias breathed when his son turned his whole head to look at his father with his burning eyes. "The corsairs are all dead, Aesir. Let the guard be and let's go home to the palace. To Vasilis – to your mother and Cerys."

"Cerys," Aesir whispered and lowered his dagger from the otter's dirk; the blade hissing in protest as it ran the length of the steel. With a nod, the prince tried to take a step forward, but his mind could no longer ignore his battered body and he went down on a knee, grimacing in pain as his wounds screamed protests from their assault.

"Aesir!" Matthias cried and bounded the three strides to his son. Without fear, the king knelt before the bloodied mouse and lifted his chin. "Aesir, you need help…"

"Da?" Aesir said softly blinking his red eyes furiously as if his lids would wipe the fiery colour from them. "Da, why… Da, it hurts."

"I know, Aesir," Matthias soothed and pulled his injured son close to his chest. "That's why we have to go back to the palace- we need to get you looked after."

Aesir responded by exhaling a shuddering sigh before groaning and gasping as Matthias helped him to his footpaws. The prince's eyes were still tingeing red, but they were not bright as Aesir's bloodwrath began to leave him; they could only hope to get him back to the palace before it left him completely and he could feel the full hurt of his wounds.

"All of you back to the palace!" Matthias roared, slipping under Aesir's arm to support him as they stepped forward south along the beach. "Loukin - get that chest the stoat ran for. Kennard - take the oarslaves back to Aurelius and see they're looked after and Lieutenant Olan - see that ship is searched for missives, then burn it; along with the bodies."

"Yes, Majesty," they replied in unison, each of them going about their tasks while a handful of guards encircled the king and the prince, to protect them against further danger while they made their way sorely back to the palace.

* * *

The sun was setting when the group made it back to the palace. They could hear the shouts from the walls as the watchbeasts announced their arrival and a cavalcade of healers met them at the base of the sea stair.

"Your Majesty!" the senior healer cried when he saw Aesir's wounds and Matthias' blood soaked tunic as the prince leaned further and further onto him for support. "The Etifedd is-is –"

"Is injured, you daft beast!" Matthias sniped and glared at their stillness. "Get up to his chambers to treat him _immediately."_

"But the infirmary is ready to receive him, my liege."

"No – his private chambers," the king affirmed. "I do not want him disturbed in a common infirmary."

"As you wish, Majesty."

"Aesir?" Matthias said softly and gave his son's paw a reassuring squeeze. The prince only looked at him, a blank expression of pain and exhaustion flattening his features. "We're home, Aesir. Everything is going to be alright."

"Your Majesty, the Gallery is teaming with creatures awaiting your return," a guard announced as he bounded towards the company. "You will be hard pressed to get him through quickly."

"Guards!" the king bellowed and motioned them forward with a wave of his free paw. "Circle Prince Aesir and the healers. Do not let any beast stand in your way. Get him to his chambers with all speed."

Gaining a nod from each of their grim faces, Matthias turned his attention back to his son.

"Aesir, can you walk with the healers and the guards, son?"

"Yes, Da," Aesir replied mechanically and made an effort to pull himself upright. "Where're you goin', Da?"

Matthias smiled at Aesir's informal speech. His son had given up calling him Da by the time he hit his fourteenth season, though it seemed he reverted back to anything familiar and a comfort in his pain.

"I'm going to go first and try to get their attention away from the doors so you can slip past quicker," Matthias explained with an encouraging wink.

Aesir gave the barest of nods and wavered on his footpaws. The red was almost completely out of his eyes now and his brow was furrowed in pain. He had lost a lot of blood already and it was only by luck the salt water and sand had helped to clean and clot the flow enough to keep him from bleeding out. Turning on his heel, Matthias ascended the stairs, stopping midflight and turning back to the group assembling around the injured mouse.

_That's my brave son,_ Matthias mused before disappearing into the darkness of the palace.

* * *

Cerys was pacing the floor of her chambers when she heard the calls and shouted orders from the guards. Her pawmaids jumped at the sound, but Cerys picked up the skirts of her gown and ran towards the noises coming from hallway outside her room.

Throwing her chamber door open, she saw Aesir as he limped by her, covered from ear to tail tip in sand and blood and surrounded by guards and healers. She covered her mouth with her paws before she screamed, but not until a loud gasp escaped her throat. At that sound, Aesir looked up at her; his eyes mottled blue and red against her soft green ones.

"Cerys…" he breathed and held out a bloodied paw to her, but the guardbeasts herded him forward towards his chamber followed by half a dozen healers.

Cerys strode off to follow him, desperate to speak to him. Naively, she wanted to make sure he was alright, that his injuries were not too grievous. However, her advancement was cut short at the sight of Valina trotting down the stairs from the monarch's private chambers, anxiously wringing her paws and uttering a sorrowful cry when she saw the wounded creature that was her son.

Before the queen could emit another sound, the large door to the prince's chambers slammed shut, leaving the two mousemaids alone in the Presence Chamber with their fears and anxiety, and a trail of blood.

"Oh, Mama!" Cerys began as she met Valina at the base of the stairs. "Mama, did you see him –"

"Have they attended him yet?" a loud voice resonated from the entrance where Matthias strode towards them, his task of distracting the nobles complete and posting sentries to bar access to the royal's wing established. "Are the healers working on Aesir yet?"

"He just got here," Valina gasped out and held out her paws to her husband. "Matthias - our son!"

"Seasons thank his gifts," Matthias replied slowly and let a slight smile curl his lips. "All of them."

"Matthias, what are you talking about?" Valina gaped at the grin on the king's face and pointed an angry paw to the white marbled floor smeared with crimson streaks. "Why are you smiling - did you not see all the blood? _Aesir's_ blood!"

"Yes," Matthias smirked and tapped his tunic where it was still drenched red. "All saw his blood. _All of his blood_."

"Matthias…"

"He has bloodwrath, Valina," Matthias interrupted. "Our son has the gift from your house.

"Apparently he just needed to taste some vermin blood," Matthias added with a wink. "Slew nigh a score of corsairs on his own, in his first battle. You should see his eyes. Never saw redder ones, even on your father. He has your gift, Valina. He has the gift from your house!"

"Matthias, he is injured!" Valina gawped. "My son is injured and –"

"He will live," the king said confidently. "He has the gift of my family as well - we cannot be killed by a vermin blade."

"Aesir's hurt!" Cerys cried, unable to keep her tongue quiet any longer in the emotion of the moment. "How can you talk about gifts when he is covered in blood?"

"Not all his," Matthias retorted. "He made sure the corsairs bled as well, Cerys- don't you worry about that!

"We must plan a feast," Matthias continued and smiled at his wife. "This is a great celebration…"

"Matthias, this is no cause for merriment!" Valina snapped defiantly. "Aesir's injured, he's in pain. My king, please."

"Valina, he will heal," the king reasoned. "Valina, don't you see? Aesir has twin blessing- just as prophesy foretold."

Valina just shook her head and allowed her husband to place an arm over her shoulders; leading her back up the stairs and to their private chambers.

Cerys stood alone and watched them go. Behind her, she could hear the whispers of her own pawmaids collected at her doorway as she stared at Aesir's closed off chamber. She cringed when she heard him yell in pain and sniffed back a tear before her senior servant, a kindly otterwife named Maud, came forward and clasped her paws tightly; leading her back to her rooms and away from the sounds as the healers worked away on their prince and his wounds.


	8. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Aesir groaned long and low as a cold cloth was placed on his throbbing forehead. Gingerly, the prince stirred and his senses began to register the world around him. The smell of herbs and ointments filled his nostrils and the sound of the sea below waved into his hearing as if the waters were rolling into his very ears, but more significantly, his whole body felt like it was a freshly beaten hearth rug.

Uttering a slight moan, Aesir opened his eyes gradually and blinked at the rays of light shining in on him from his open balcony. He tried to raise his right paw to shield his eyes, but it was tightly bound to his chest. A flicker of panic washed over him as Aesir tried to raise his paw again, fighting against the bonds and letting his lungs take quicker breaths in attempt to relieve his stress.

"Shh, Aesir," Valina cooed and laid a gentle paw on her son's cheek. "Relax, Aesir. Just keep still."

"My arm," Aesir gasped hoarsely and clicked his tongue against the parched sides of his mouth. "Mama, my arm…"

"… Is bound to you to stop you from using it," Valina answered and gave him a reassuring smile. "You have quite the cut on it and the healers are worried the thread won't hold if you move it too much."

"Water?" the queen asked when the prince stopped struggling and relaxed into his pillows again. At Aesir's nod, she rose from her seat and walked to the sideboard, pouring a beaker of spring water and adding a spoon of honey and a squeeze of a fresh orange wedge. After a few swirls of the silver utensil, the queen placed it back on the tray and went back to her son's bedside.

"You'll have to drink this slowly, Aesir," she said softly and brought the glass to his chapped lips. Aesir gulped down the contents of the cup, letting it dribble out of the corners of his mouth in his haste to sate his thirst and quell the dry, burning feeling of his throat and mouth. The citrus flavour stung the chapped skin of his lips, but he didn't complain. The water tasted too good to care.

Swallowing a mouthful to large, the prince choked and coughed, sputtering out liquid and gasping at the pain that flew across his ribs. Valina pulled the beaker away as Aesir tried to roll over to ball up in his new found hurt, but as he raised his legs, an ache like he had never experienced seared over his left thigh. Catching him off guard, Aesir's eyes flew open and he inhaled sharply in reaction.

"Easy, Aesir," Valina breathed rising to her footpaws and guiding Aesir onto his back as he groaned and gasped in anguish. "Take slow breaths. The pain will subside in a moment."

"Mama, why does everything hurt?" Aesir moaned, willing away the white hot flames from his body.

"Because you fought a battle, Aesir!" the queen chortled at his naïve remark. "You took on a score of corsairs by yourself. It's a miracle you are still alive."

"I feel like I'm dying," Aesir huffed, wiping beads of sweat from his face with his left paw and grimacing at the tender feeling of his snout. "Ugh. Even my nose feels like it's four times its normal size!"

"Yes, Aesir," Valina soothed refreshing the cloth and wiping his brow with more cool water. "It will for a while yet, my son."

Aesir grumbled under his breath and took steadying breaths in attempt to ebb the still flashing pain circulating through his body. Valina just continued to fuss with him, adjusting his blankets and helping him to drink more water. Looking around his chamber, Aesir noticed the high-banked fire, his table and sideboards covered with healing supplies and bandages, and one of his pillowed lounges pulled closer to his posted bed from its place by the balcony. A lavender and silver evening robe was laid across the headroll of the elaborate furniture and a heavy coverlet folded at the foot. His mother must have been sleeping in his room.

"How long have I been sleeping?" Aesir asked quietly. "Where are the servants?"

"You've only been asleep for a couple of days," Valina grinned and fiddled with the cloth on his forehead again. "And I dismissed the servants. The last thing you need right now is a gaggle of eyes staring at you while you rest."

"Father won't approve of you tending to me yourself," Aesir smirked. "He'll just tell you its not very royal."

"Hang royalty," the queen giggled. "Your father knows; he's already had his eyes roll over the matter."

"Where is Father?" the prince inquired after the two mice shared a brief chuckle.

Valina smiled. "With the council. Don't worry, Aesir- he'll be back. He hasn't been far from your side the whole time."

"And Cerys?" Aesir asked, fighting the blush that warmed his cheeks. "Is she alright?"

"She's fine thanks to you and those swift paws of hers," Valina stated. "Really Aesir, what were you two thinking? Striking out down the coast alone with no guards like you were mouselets again. You both could have been killed!" Seeing him wince at the tone, she corrected herself from reprimanding him. He was suffering enough without her jumping down his back with the obvious. "Cerys has been a few times to see you, but I haven't let her stay long. She needs to attend to her studies," she relented.

Aesir sighed and stared out towards his balcony and into the glistening sea and warm bluing sky.

"What happened to me, Mama," the prince questioned after a long silence. "Why was I so… why did I see red?"

"Aesir, you finally showed your bloodwrath," Valina whispered as if it were a great secret and Matthias hadn't spent the last two days practically screaming it from the palace roof. "You saw your red mists."

"Is that what that was?" Aesir stated. "I felt so strange. Like nothing else matter except fighting… there was nothing else I could think of."

"Yes, Aesir. Bloodwrath controls your mind."

"I couldn't pull back, Mama," Aesir confessed. Images of his battle started coming back to him as he recalled the events. "I remember getting hurt, but not feeling pain. I remember thinking there were too many of them, but I couldn't pull back…"

"I know, Aesir," Valina exhaled slowly. "Your grandfather used to say the same thing when he came home injured from a battle. He used to say he wasn't in control of his own body; he just kept driving forward."

"Yes," Aesir agreed and tried to shift positions on his downy bed. At his movement, the bandages pulled on his wounds and the prince frowned at the hurt while he muttered curses beneath his breath.

"Now, now, Aesir- language!" Valina mused and tapped his free paw. "I know it must hurt, but swearing isn't going to make them ache less, so keep a civil tongue.

"You know," she continued, "I did wish you would have suffered a minor injury first. I had hoped you would have learned how to deal with pain from one war wound before you decided to take on a whole body of them! But then again, you never were one to do things half way!"

Valina chuckled to herself when Aesir gave her a weak smile and a yawn. The healers had warned her when the prince awoke, he would still be tired and need to sleep again shortly. Letting out another yawn, Aesir wiggled himself further into his pillows and allowed his eyes to close halfway.

"Sleep, Aesir," the queen commanded lightly while she got to her footpaws and dropped a light kiss on his head. "Rest as much as you can today, for now that you are awake, your father will be insisting the feast he postponed to occur- in your honour, of course."

"Father, postponed the State Feast?" Aesir murmured and closed his eyes to the daylight.

"Yes," Valina said and waited for Aesir's response. After two moments of without a reply, she breathed out a sigh she had been holding in for the past two days while she kept vigil over him and allowed a surge of relief waved over her body. As battered as he was, Aesir was alive.

Valina was just about to settle back onto the lounge for her own rest when the door latch clicked and Matthias slid into the chamber, quietly closing the door behind him. The queen smiled and held her fingers to her lips to signal silence as the king strode forward.

"You just missed him," Valina whispered and folded into her husband's offered embrace. "He just fell back asleep."

"How is he feeling?" Matthias murmured, resting his chin on her headfur and focusing his gaze on his son.

"He is very sore and very tired," the queen related. "He'll sleep the day away again."

Matthias exhaled a batch of his own suppressed angst. "Good. The more he rests, the quicker he will heal and the faster we can have the State Feast; and the sooner Ulran can go north."

"So, you've found where the jewels in the chest came from?" Valina asked with a concerned look crossing her features. "They came from the north?"

"Yes," Matthias sighed. "The chest bore the crest of Nilhand."

"But where could they have gotten them?" Valina pressed. "Nilhand's resources are in its trees, not gems. There are no mines."

"No _active_ mines," Matthias corrected her. "No _active_ mines that_ we_ _know of_, at least."

"But Baron Falcor –"

"- Has been hiding in Wesrus in Baron Trysten's company this past season," the king grumbled. "Falcor has all but abandoned Nilhand. Milan left the baronial collar to a coward of a son."

"Why would he be hiding?" Valina questioned. "Who is he hiding from?"

"Me, the Council, every Nilhander that does not welcome him within the north," Matthias listed. "I have half a mind to strip him of his title, but I'll wait until Ulran comes back with news."

"You think Baron Ulran will be well-received in the north?" Valina said cautiously. "Nilhanders are suspicious of outsiders, most of all an Eurian. Should you not be sending Falcor to sort out his own mess?"

"Falcor claims the Nilhanders resist his authority there and they will not listen to him. Ulran is more assertive, but also fair and will go as my official envoy. Hopefully, he can quell any grumblings, find out where they are getting these jewels, what they're using them for and re-establish order to the north."

Valina opened her mouth to speak, but Aesir let out a loud groan and tried to roll onto his side. Matthias chuckled as he watched his son's attempt a change of position then huff in his slumber and flop onto his back again.

"I think we had better let him sleep," the king said softly and guided Valina to the door. "You need your rest, too."

"I'll rest here with him…"

"No, come to our chambers, Vali," Matthias asserted. "You need a proper rest. Aesir is fine now, he's on the mend.

"Besides," he added with a grin, "I thought you would want to accompany me to the north tower."

"The north tower?" Valina scoffed and scrunched up her nose. "Why would we both need to go to the prophets? Surely, you can go yourself."

"Pity, and here I thought you were as anxious as I for the day when they could finally see Aesir's future."

"What?" Valina exclaimed as Matthias ushered her into the Presence Chamber and closed the prince's door behind them. "His future? But they've never been able to see his future. Aesir's path has always been hidden from them."

"I just received a missive from Celton expressing a wish to see us regarding the Etifedd," Matthias confirmed. "It would seem he is not hidden anymore."

* * *

The banners were raised, the fires roared and every barrel of mead and wine in the kingdom was brought to Vasilis. Fisherbeasts worked endlessly to fill the orders from the palace kitchens and servants bustled about the corridors as they tended to their work. No expense was to be spared, no finery to be missed. Everything was to be done with elaborate detail. It was no longer a simple feast for the king to break bread with his statesbeasts; it was now a celebration of royal aptitude. Eutrusia's Etifedd was to be honoured. Fables foretold had come to pass - Prince Aesir was indeed twin-blessed and rumours fluttered anxiously in the air with the bringing of a new prophesy; Aesir would lead a great army into battle and be victorious.

The seeing wasn't detailed, but it showed Aesir had a path, a future and through him, so did Eutrusia. Matthias was overjoyed. After seventeen seasons of foggy visions, the prophets were able to see the prince's fate. Finally, things were coming together for his son and he was following in the footsteps of his forebeasts and ancestors.

Despite his wounds, Aesir refused to walk with a prop. His leg hurt him greatly, but he was resolved that no beast in Eutrusia should see him as a weakling. Besides, he argued with his healers, he only had to walk from the doors of the Feasting Hall to the dais. The rest of the evening he could sit and rest his wound. Reluctantly, they agreed.

Dressed in a deep navy tunic with scrolling gold thread and bright red cape, Aesir strode off to the festivities with as much vigour as his body allowed. He paused twice along his journey to collect himself and push away the pain from his injuries; each time his pawbeasts looking at him intently, offering words of comfort and the reassurance that he could go back to his chamber if it was too much. Aesir just shook his head in response. If fresh wounds on the battlefield did not stop him from attacking, the Fates he was going to allow them to halt his attendance to a feast in his honour. So, gritting his teeth and squaring his shoulders, the prince continued his walk towards the sounds of laughter and revelry.

Pausing briefly at the large double doors, Aesir took a deep breath as the herald bellowed his arrival over the carousing beasts before the prince entered into the Feasting Hall to a roar of cheers and paws thumping on tables. He was weak from his efforts, but dismissed all feeling of rest and ache from his mind, concentrating instead on the pride that welled up in his chest while nobles, syrs, officers, chancellors and wealthy merchants called his name and praised his bravery, his valour and his family. The only two creatures in the hall not standing were his parents, as they were not permitted to stand for any beast in Eutrusia, but instead both monarchs sat on the edge of their seats and clapped fervently.

Reaching the dais, Aesir bounded up the steps, more in an effort to get to his seat quicker than a show of strength, but the Eutrusians took it as the latter and applauded all the louder. Settling uncomfortably in his chair beside his father, Aesir smiled at his subjects and waved them his thanks. With a motion from Matthias, the cheering slowed and the beasts took back to their places at the long tables while Aesir let his head flop against his chair's headrest and eagerly tapped on his goblet for the wine-bearer to fill. Once brimmed with currant wine, the prince took a long drink and willed the alcohol to help numb his pain.

"Not so fast, Aesir," Matthias chuckled at him and gave him a wink. "You don't want to end up on the floor."

"If it will stop the pain, I do," Aesir mused, motioning for his goblet to be filled again. "Or at least make me drunk enough that I don't feel it anymore."

Matthias let out a hearty laugh and commanded them all to eat while bard sung a comical Eutrusian folktale of a squirrel that was so taken with a mousemaid's beauty that he dyed his fur brown and shaved his tail in attempt to look like a mouse so she would bestow him with a kiss. Laughing at the vulgarity of the story, Aesir looked over to the vacant seat beside his mother; the seat Cerys usually held. The grin immediately dropped from his face and he was about to ask where she was when the heralds announced her and the doors from the western wing opened.

Aesir felt his heart stop as she walked toward them. He had only seen her once since he awoke and it was only quickly when she snuck through the passways to his chamber in order to wish him a good night. It wasn't proper for her to be in his private chambers now they were older, but she oftentimes found herself in places she shouldn't be. Still, he was glad for it; especially when she kissed him on the forehead before she departed, her long curling headfur cascading around him and perfuming the air with the scent of oranges and clove oil from a recent bath. That night, he had fallen asleep with a large smile on his face and a warm feeling in his heart.

But now as she glided towards them, he was speechless and could only hope his expression was not mirroring the thoughts coursing through his mind. To him, dressed in a gown made of the palest blue satin and a low sapphire and diamond coronet, Cerys was the most beautiful creature in the hall.

Gliding to the dais, Cerys swept her family a grand curtsy.

"So sorry to be late," she declared and waited for Matthias to motion for her to rise. "I couldn't decide on a gown."

"Well, I suppose a week isn't enough time for such an important decision," the king chortled and then laughed aloud as Valina gave him a playful swat on the arm. Turning serious, Matthias looked to his left as the princess settled into her seat and started to delicately wash her paws in the bowl of offered lemon water. "Don't let it happen again, Cerys."

"Yes, Lord Father," she replied dutifully and smiled past the king to the beast on his right. Shaking his head in confusion, Matthias glanced over his shoulder and scowled at his son.

"Aesir, sit down," Matthias said crossly. "What are you doing?"

Aesir quickly settled himself down in his seat, shaking his own thoughts from his head; he hadn't even realized he had stood up. Matthias grumbled admonishments at him and Cerys gave a light airy giggle. It was only Valina who was quietly observing her son, taking note of his set jaw and reddish tinge to his ear-tips. Bringing her gaze back to the princess, Valina tilted her head in assessment of Cerys's choice of gown. A blue gown; one that matched the colour of her son's eyes.

"My lady, what are you smiling at?" Matthias whispered in her ear. "You're smirking like a simpleton, Vali."

"Nothing, dear," Valina replied and bore a more regal expression. "Just thinking how interesting the next few seasons will be."

"Your Majesties?" a strong voice sounded before them and both monarchs turned their attention to the base of the dais where Baron Trysten stood with a what appeared to be a syr and a young mousemaid.

"Ah, Trysten," Matthias greeted. "Enjoying the feast?"

"Yes, Majesty," the baron responded and bent forward in a quick bow. "Most excellent cuisine and entertainment."

"Who are your friends, Baron Trysten?" Valina asked as she scrutinized the maiden from ear to tail tip, fully knowing what the introduction was going to be about.

"Your Majesty, this is Syr Denthor and his daughter, Lady Giada."

At the silence that followed, Trysten addressed Matthias directly. "Your Majesty will remember Syr Denthor from the Battle of Wesrus. He was the primary commander of my forces."

"Yes, I remember Syr Denthor," Matthias nodded to the mouse who bowed deeply at the acknowledgement. "I was, however, unaware he had a daughter."

At that, the mousemaid stepped forward and curtsied low before the dais, keeping her chin modestly snugged to her chest.

"Lady Giada is a most accomplished dancer, Your Highness," Baron Trysten said firmly and tipped his head to the prince. "Perhaps you will allow her to show you once the music begins."

"Is that so?" Aesir mused and made a casual lean on the table. "Please rise, Lady Giada and accept my apologies, but given the circumstances of previous events, I fear I will be unable to partake in a dance this evening."

The maiden gave a nervous nod and bowed her head as she backed towards her father and the baron. The three creatures made their excuses and stepped lightly away from the platform to return to their table.

"Pretty maid," Matthias mumbled as he watched them leave. "Her father is a brave mouse…"

"Matthias!" Valina hissed.

"Valina, don't give me that- I saw you evaluating her."

"Yes, but…"

"Perhaps it is time we started to look into Aesir's betrothal," Matthias whispered so his son could not overhear them and, assessing the height of the table, laid a paw low on her stomach. "If you don't recall, I already had you growing fat with him when you were his age."

Valina's face flamed redder than the berries that covered the flan in front of her. "That is different."

"It's the same," the king laughed and stretched back in his seat. "The only thing that is different is that it's your little princeling this time. Tradition Etifedds are married in their eighteen season – that doesn't leave us a whole lot of time."

"What are you two talking about?" Aesir said slowly and gave his parents a sly look. "Are you two …"

"Don't worry about it, son," Matthias chuckled and took a large gulp of his wine before clapping Aesir non-too gently on the back. "In the words of your grandfather, I'll make sure it's one you can enjoy with the candles lit!"

"Candles lit for what?" Cerys chirped from over her soup bowl. "What is Aesir enjoying?"

"Matthias!" Valina gasped and gaped at her husband. "Matthias, by the Fates…"

"Oh, good," the king said loudly to interrupt any of his family from speaking further. "The musicians are here."

The night wore on and the dance was merry. Aesir left the dais and circulated through the hall, conversing with nobles and merchants alike, taking careful consideration to speak to everybeast regardless of their position. It was a custom he had inherited from his mother as she was living proof a beast could rise from almost any means under the right circumstances and it was only wise to ensure he not only knew who they were, but that they knew him.

The music was light and his footpaws ached to move to the steps as almains, wheels and riddas were conducted with enthusiasm. Even his parents had graced the court by dancing a walzma. All beasts seemed to be enjoying themselves, in particular Cerys. He could see her across the hall conversing with some other maidens of her acquaintance and swaying slightly to the beat of the instruments.

"You're looking pale, Your Highness," Syr Donovan observed and handed the prince a beaker of liquid. Aesir gave the Arms Master a half smile and looked into the cup; furrowing his brow at the brown liquid flecked with herbs.

"Your tincture for this evening," the elderly squirrel informed him quietly. "The healers don't want you to miss a dose and I didn't think you would like one taggin' your shadow like a nursemaid tonight, so I brought it to you myself."

"Thank-you, Donovan," Aesir expressed and swirled the medicine.

"Best to just chug it, lad," Donovan winked. "Tastes awful either way, so just get it out of the way quickly."

"Right," he said and tipped the rim to his lips, "After a week of this, you think I'd be immune to the rancid stuff."

"You never get used to it. Trust me."

The moment the liquid met his tongue, Aesir knew the squirrel's words to be true. How could anybeast acquire a taste for a tonic that made their mouth and throat burn, their stomach turn in knots and their body want to retch and curl up into a ball? Still, by some miracle of the Seasons, he was able to stay upright and hold in his supper.

"There, you'll be good to go for another few bells, Your Highness," Donovan assured him, taking back the beaker and motioning about the revelry of the room. "Enjoy the evening, sire."

Aesir tipped his head in acknowledgement and watched the elder depart through the crowd. Glancing about the dancers, he noticed a gathering of young males talking amongst themselves and throwing gazes in Cerys direction. Twice a noble otter clapped a lord mouse on the back and finally gave him a little shove towards the princess. Aesir set his jaw and felt the green claws of jealously curl up his paws while he watched the scene unfold.

"May I have this dance, Your Highness?" Lord Gandon asked as he bowed low before the princess when she turned to face him after a clearing of his throat.

"If it please you, my lord," Cerys replied with a smile and held up her paw with royal grace. When the mouse's trembling paw touched hers, she dipped a quick curtsy and allowed him to lead her in the latter half of an almain. When the song was finished, another young lord asked her for a dance, then another, then a syr. She even graced a rich merchant's son in being her partner for a wheel, a dance that shifted partners frequently so she would not be completely scrutinized for dancing with a beast too far below her. Each time Cerys changed partners she saw Aesir staring at her as he limped amongst the gentry, conversing with their subjects in a nonchalant manner; with each twirl or skip down the line the princess made, he was a step closer.

"I requested a volte to be played next," a roguishly arrogant lord by the name of Killen announced to her when she tried to repose after her string of dances and held out his paw. "I am told it is your favourite dance, Princess Cerys."

"It is, my lord," Cerys responded and held her head high in his informality of addressing her by name. "But only when the lead knows his steps. It can be quite a frustrating dance if your partner does not know where he should be."

The young lord was quiet at her declaration, but bowed in acknowledgement of her words and walked forward with her onto the floor with the other dancers. Once the music started, Cerys immediately yelp when he trod on her footpaw.

"My apology, Princ- Your Highness," Lord Killen mumbled and hopped about in attempt to time the beat again.

"Its fine- just lead with your lef- OUCH!" Cerys cried again as he knocked knees with her.

"The musicians' timing is off," the lord blushed deeply at his mistakes. "It should be a fourth count…"

"May I?"

Both mice stopped their awkward movements to see Aesir standing beside them, his paws crossed over his chest. Once he had their attention, the prince gave a devilish grin and held his paw up high for Cerys, all the while never taking his eyes off the Lord of Two-Left-Paws.

"I'm sorry Aesir, but Lord Killen has specifically requested this song so we may dance," Cerys said formally.

"Ah, the good lord won't mind," Aesir smirked and turned a cold eye to the opposition. "Will you, Killen?"

"Not at all, Your Highness," Killen said with a low bow. "I am at Your Highness' service."

"My lady?" Aesir smiled at the princess as Killen backed away. "May I have this dance, princess?"

Cerys placed her paw over Aesir's and bobbed a curtsy, making a sweeping motion with dress skirts in paw to add a flare of gallantry. With a laugh, Aesir stepped forward with Cerys, and into the motions of the dance.

"You shouldn't be dancing, Aesir," Cerys chided him as they hopped forward and sideways to step around each other's back. "You're injured."

"One dance won't kill me," Aesir grimaced at the movements to his battered body. "Besides, I couldn't stand by and witness that mouse slaughter a volte."

"Well, thank-you for saving my footpaws!" Cerys said, clapping once and skipping away from him in a half circle. Coming back to him, Cerys felt heat rising to her cheeks as Aesir clasped her left paw and around her waist with his right in preparation for the lift.

"Aesir, you don't have to…" But before she could finish, Aesir raised her up for half a turn, then placed her carefully back on her footpaws. She could hear his stifled grunts and escalated breathing from exertion; for a moment he paused to compose himself before moving onto the next series of steps.

Cerys gave him a worried glance. "Aesir, please – you shouldn't be doing this. We can stop. Really. You don't have to dance with me if you can't."

"No, I don't have to," Aesir said quietly to her as he executed another lift and gritted his teeth against the strain it caused on his right arms wounds. "But I love the way a dance makes you smile."

Across the hall, Matthias wound his way through the crowds of onlookers to a thick set mouse hung back from the gaggles of nobles. By his rich maroon tunic a heavy gold baronial collar, it was evident he was an important beast, but he chose not to participate in the reams of idle gossip. Besides, he was waiting for someone to come to him.

"Not out and dancing, Baron Ulran?" Matthias jested with him and together the two mice clinked goblets in greeting. "There was a time when we couldn't get you off the dance floor."

"That was many seasons ago, Your Majesty," Ulran chuckled and bowed his head in reverence.

"Nonsense – it was only two seasons ago. You and Dellia danced until the sun came up – do you not remember?"

"That we did," the baron reminisced and fought the words that wanted to escape his mouth. Two seasons could change a lot. A beast could go from being healthy and vigorous to weak and sickly. Looking out over the dancers, Ulran sighed. Two seasons ago, he and his wife had danced the night away and now … now, the very action of walking the length of their chamber left her breathless.

"Ulran?" Matthias questioned and furrowed his brow. "Is something the matter?"

"No, Your Majesty," he corrected himself and forced his thoughts to the back of his mind. He had promised Dellia before he left he would not say anything of her illness to the king. He promised to stay quiet and she promised him she would get better. Naïvely, he thought if he kept his word, she would keep hers. "I'm just tired from travelling."

"Well, what do you think of her," Matthias said tipping his cup towards a laughing Cerys as Aesir set her in a twirl. "Cerys has grown quite a lot since the last time you saw her."

"She does you credit, sire," Ulran replied, reverting his thoughts firmly in politics once again. "She is a beauty. I have no doubt she will make a great match for my Ulrick."

Matthias nodded proudly as Ulran turned his attention to the king. "To be clear, her title is an empty one?"

"Yes," Matthias said plainly. "You know she is not of my line. Cerys was orphaned on the beach the day our Matteus died. I am afraid you have to take her at face value."

"Oh, her face has value alright," Ulran surmised. "As does her dowry you send her with."

"I'm glad we are in agreement then," Matthias smiled taking a long drink of his wine. "I will have them draft the documents in the morning and we can have them signed before you make your way north."

"Are you still wanting to keep my envoy mission a secret from the Etifedd?" Ulran said cautiously. "Prince Aesir is your Captain of the Guard – he should be privy to these things."

"Yes, he should, but right now Aesir needs to concentrate on healing," Matthias agreed. "For the time being we will just keep this amongst ourselves, my friend. A few peasants that have stumbled unto some old mines are none of his concern."

"As you wish, Your Majesty."


	9. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Surf crashed relentlessly against black hull of the galley as if the very seas were trying to push the vessel back from whence it came. From the quarter deck the captain shouted orders to the verminous crew to haul up the dark green sails while the winds ushered in a threatening gale. Below the decks, the oar master snapped his whip at the heads of the oarslaves, the cracker flicking a breath from their eyes, nipping at their ears and opening their backs should they slow their pace. Steadily the pushed the oars forward and then pulled them back again. Forward, back. Forward, back. All to the time of a beating drum. _Tum, tum. Tum, tum._ Forward, back. Forward, back. _Tum, tum. Tum, tum._

High above the gale beckoned in the black clouds, swirling the seas into an ominous shade of green to mirror the ship's own façade. Deep within the clouds the thunder rumbled with the drumbeats, the lightning whipped with the lash. The winds gusted against the captain's shouted commands, rallying the elements to its cause.

"Rise ta slips 'n tie 'em fast on ta yards!" a lean gray fox growled to the crew above the blasts of sea air as the salted spray burned his eyes and chapped his lips. "T'en git yar paws 'neath ta deck ta weather thee storm!"

Grunting, the fox pulled the wheel to the left, glimpsing briefly at his compass to check his bearings before tying a thick rope around the rungs of the helm to hold the ship on its course west. Higher the waves rose and the ship groaned as it flopped over the wake and crashed into the next wave without meter, tipping the vermin about the deck boards like kelp on the tide. The captain glanced over his shoulder at the cabin behind him; quarters he should be retreating to. Instead, he covered up a shiver by shaking rainwater from his ears and stepped warily down the steps to the main deck to slip into the hatch with the rest of his crew.

"Captain Cinereal, whatcha doing down 'ere?" a squinty eyed ferret asked. "Why ya not in yar cabin?"

"I no be sharin' quarters wit tat beast," Cinereal replied and tipped a hammock to dispel the creature so he could take up occupation. "Ta Lord o' Clapsbay may 'ave ordered uz ta take it w'ere it be needin' ta go, ba 'ee no be sayin' I 'ave ta be nice-like ta it. Sides, I c'nt take ta wheezin' it does."

The crew shared a hearty laugh and started handing out mugs of grog while they waited for the storm to run its course. Above them nestled comfortably in the captain's cabin, a creature was slouched at the broad table centering the room. A heavy black cloak covered its body, the hood pulled up over its head; its tail and paws were the only things exposed to any who dared to look on at it. Carefully the beast rapped its claws on the tabletop as it muttered incantations between rasping breaths, thinking, searching… seeing.

The western corsairs had failed to meet them at Irgash and for a week they waited without quarry. Finally, the new young Lord of Clapsbay, Clune, had taken it as insult and sent a crew to go collect the tribute that was due to him and his brother, Clud, the other lord of the vermin empire. For generations the corsairs of the west rendezvoused with the reigning vermin at Irgash to offer homage to the Lord of Clapsbay with spoils of jewels and gold; spoils that had gone to pay mercenaries for their services to the ratlords in their battles as they tried to conquer the southern mainland. But what delayed them now? No beast could answer.

And there were other questions in need of answers; an image of a threat to the empire, a foretelling of its downfall. It had been others of the creature's ilk to see it first. A sabre spinning over conquered lands, twirling through the air towards the west. An expansion. Then out of the mists a broadsword flew, piercing the sabre through the blade and pinning it against the rocks to the east. A resistance. But then something else happened. The sabre bled. A death.

But the creature had seen something more, _some beast_ more. Some beast from the west, his fate unclear, his path not yet made, but rather pockets of events scattered across a space of time. The creature needed to find this beast and lay a paw of the Fates on him to see his purpose, his tie to the Clap and why the Seasons had ushered in the mists to hide him. But he needed more information than the Fates had given him so far. He needed another seeing. Lord Clune had entrusted him to discovery where the resistance would come from and dispose of him to end the threat of what might come to pass.

Through the depths of his mind, his third eye strained to place of secrets thoughts, to hidden threads of life and the spinals that weaved the strands of flesh, bone and blood of the mortal world. There, in a glistening hall, he saw him; a mouse clad in crimson and rose gold, a long sword in his paw and a red gleam to his eyes. Behind him stood to spools of other creatures as he protected them from harm, always pushing back if the darkness pressed forward; always forward, never backward. This mouse knew not how to stand down.

Scenes would shift to battles, white sands and fire. Metal clashed mental, halberd met pike, sword met sabre. Banners of snakes and claws whipped in the wind as the standards of scroll and sword advanced it. A battle of two kingdoms. But who would win?

Snarling at the vagueness of his seeing, the creature pulled back his hood to reveal the face of black pine marten. Heavy scars lined his fur and his breathing intensified into a shuddering wheeze in preparation of the pain to come. He had to make payment if he was to see more, the Fates demanded blood for knowledge of the events to come.

The pine marten raised a claw to his face, pressing it sharply into his flesh until he pierced his skin and felt the bone beneath his temple.

"Dracul gives blood for the sight, oh Fates," the vermin rasped out as he dragged his claw downwards; splitting his own face open with his claw in a long, bloody line. "Fates betold the sights beheld."

Moaning at his self-mutilation, Dracul closed his eyes and willed the Fates to take his payment. The blackness swirled, shifting, shaping. Again he saw him; the mouse with flashing red eyes and a whirling sword, pushing forward against the fray; but where? Where was the battle? Everything around the mouse was blurred, fogged. Mists wreathed the warrior and wouldn't let him see.

The pine marten growled in frustration and pulled his hood over his bleeding face. He didn't wipe off the blood. It was no longer his. It was the Fates' to do with it what they willed. Turning to the window at the back of the cabin, Dracul looked out into the storm as it assaulted the ship's advancement west.

He had to find this mouse. He had to see his fate, for within it lie the fate of Clapsbay and entrance to Hellsgates. Captain Cinereal and his crew could deal with the western traitors and procure tribute for the lords. No, he had to find a mouse.

* * *

Aesir strode through the portcullis of the southern gate of Vasilis and across the palace courtyard to the wide steps that led to the Grand Gallery. As he walked creatures bowed or curtsied, backing away and muttering a respect, "Your Highness."

It had been a fortnight since his celebration feast and Aesir was healed and back to his duties; his normal duties as Etifedd being added to now that his father had bestowed full rights as Captain of the Guard on him. Now all missives and concerns regarding the safety of the kingdom went to Aesir's paws first and he would then address them to the king. The prince rose to the responsibility with ease and tact, exhibiting rulings that showed wisdom far beyond his young seasons. It was a promising beginning to the start of a future reign.

Coming to the top of the stairs, he nodded to the footbeasts who opened the doors wide and the prince entered into the shade of the hall, rolling his strained shoulders and sighing at the coolness that fluttered on his face. It was only late morning and already Aesir was exhausted. Rising with the dawn, the prince had made his way to the tilt grounds, training and conversing with his lieutenants before his own advisors and chancellors had caught up with him to discuss matters of state. By the ninth bell, Aesir had met with the Lord Admiral to discuss the seas and any concerns or information that came from it. There were reports of increased corsair activity on the western seaboard, but no direct threats as of yet; the vermin were still keeping a healthy distance and leaving trade ships alone, but Admiral Daelahn was keeping a weathered eye on them. At the first sight of trouble, the corsairs would suffer the wrath of Eutrusia's fleet.

Taking advantage of the empty gallery, Aesir held up his paw to halt his small entourage walking in his shadow and sauntered down the line of the great arras to the end where there was no longer a bare patch of marble. No, now hanging proudly beside his father was his own likeness to forever solidify his place in Eutrusian history on the Kings' Banner. Aesir smiled at the image that gazed down at him; a strong mouse in full battle armour, his shield in paw and sword held bravely before him. Drawing the sword belted to his side, Aesir marvelled at how his natural stance with a blade mimicked the threaded figure hanging above him. The semptresses had done a masterful job capturing his likeness; now if he could just duplicate the same degree of work on his own prophesy and become the victor of the battle they had foretold.

Feeling the awkward weight in his paw, Aesir looked down at the jewelled sword his father had given him the week following his celebration feast. With a twist of his wrist, the prince turned the weapon over and back again as if convincing himself it was truly in his paw. It was a beautiful weapon to look upon, yet the craftsmanship was flawed. Large emeralds and diamonds littered the golden hilt while outsized pommel was a skilfully blended sphere of gold and silver swirls, but the sword was not balanced; the ornate design made the haft heavier than the blade and the edge ran shorter and wider than Aesir preferred. But it was a gift from his father and to honour the king, the prince was determined to make an effort to wield it; however, practice as he did, he still couldn't get used to it. It didn't feel right in his paws.

Not like the worn battle blade of his grandsire. That sword was perfectly balance and Aesir was able to bear it lightly despite its great length. He always felt safe when he held that blade in his paws, like the sword itself would protect him. It had already seen him through his first fight to victory and to Aesir it seemed ridiculous to change his weapon now, especially when his grandsire's blade was the traditional sword of the Captain of the Guard. They had always wielded the blade since the title's inception in the founding of the kingdom. He sighed. Why did his father always have to meddle?

Hearing footpaws walking towards him, Aesir huffed in frustration, but held on to his patience. "Lord Conroy, I do not want to be disturbed right now…"

"So, they told me," an airy voice replied, stifling back a giggle. "I told them I didn't care."

Aesir turned at the familiar sound and let a smile soften his features when he saw Cerys two paces behind him. Returning his joyful expression, Cerys swept him a playful curtsy before rising to her footpaws to address him in their game.

"My liege, Prince Aesir," she said mockingly. "Seasons greet you well on this fine day."

"Your Highness," Aesir chuckled, bowing over her outstretched paw. "To what do I owe the honour of your presence, princess?"

"Hiding from Father!" Cerys said rolling her eyes and breaking from their mock of royal protocol. "Every time I see him, he keeps insisting that I am interested in the geography of Eurus or its capital of Lysium. I don't know why he thinks I care. It's like he's not telling me something. Luckily, I didn't have to listen to him long before somebeast else distracted him."

"He's an oddity sometimes," Aesir agreed, looking down at his new sword. "For all his philosophy, sometimes he doesn't know when to leave well enough alone."

"Or so we have daily proof," Cerys winked and tapped her claw on the blade. "Does it feel better yet?"

"No," Aesir groaned slightly. "It's still as awkward as the first day I wielded it."

"Why can't you use your old sword?" Cerys asked as the prince sheathed the blade back at his side. "There was nothing wrong with it."

"Father doesn't believe that it is a sword worthy of a _princely_ captain," Aesir said plainly in half-hearted defense of Matthias' decision. Shaking his head, the prince added, "Little does he recall a foe doesn't care about the jewels on the hilt, but the keenness of the blade."

Cerys nodded her acknowledgement and followed Aesir's stare back up to the tapestry.

"Is that you?" Cerys inquired and let a smile light up her soft green eyes. "They finished it?"

"Yes," Aesir grinned. "Just today, I'm told. I was just admiring it when you came in."

"You're in armour," Cerys observed, touching the fabric with her paw. "Does it mean something? I mean, the rest of your forebeasts are depicted in their strength."

"It means I will make a name for myself on the battlefield," Aesir replied. "As to the rest of what I will do, that is still unclear."

"But you don't want to go to war?"

"I would rather peace," he smiled at her and took her paw. "But if there are creatures to defend I will be there sword in paw. I will keep Eutrusia safe at all costs."

"You will be a great king," Cerys smiled, loving the warm feeling she had now that he was touching her paw. Her stomach tightened as she looked into his blue eyes and she could feel the heat rising to her cheeks. She always thought the other maidens of her acquaintance ridiculous when they admitted to being flustered and nervous in Aesir's presence, but ever since she saw him fight on the beach, Cerys was starting to get the same sort of feelings when she was around him.

"I will try," Aesir laughed at her blunt praise as he placed her paw on his arm to lead her away. Looking back at the long tapestry behind them, he focused on the image of himself and smiled at the embroidery of the sword. It was not the heavily jewelled one his father insisted he use, rather a simple, plain sword. His grandsire's sword; the sword of the Captain of the Guard.

"Aesir?" Cerys questioned at his hesitation. "Is something wrong?"

"No, Cerys," Aesir affirmed and gestured for them to continue to the western wing. They hadn't gotten far before there was a commotion outside the gallery and the doors were thrust open to beckon in a frantic herald.

"Your Highness!" he called when he spotted Aesir across the hall. "Prince Aesir- you are needed at the river immediately!"

"For what?" Aesir questioned, dropping Cerys's paw from his arm to walk towards the anxious hedgehog. "What news is there from the Eu?"

"A royal messenger from Nilhand, Highness!" the herald gasped. "Just arrived in a dory - Highness, he's barely alive!"

"What?" Aesir roared. "What was a royal messenger doing in the north?"

"I-I'm not sure, Your Highness."

"Ivar, Fystien- come with me," Aesir ordered, pointing at the two guards by the door. "Lord Conroy, find out who gave the order for a messenger to be in Nilhand, and you," Aesir continued as he strode passed the hedgehog. "Alert the king of this matter."

* * *

The messenger was bloodied, weary and half-starved. For eight days he paddle his way down the Eu, desperate to make it back to Aurelius and give his report to the king. By the time Aesir had arrived at the river docks, the squirrel was already being attended to by a healer, while Syr Donovan and Lieutenant Klein saw the crowds of gaping beasts were held back. The dockyarder who pulled the dory in and helped the stammering messenger onto the planks had just begun to give his report to the prince, when Matthias descended into the mix.

"Deacon," the king breathed and went to stand before the squirrel while he had his head wrapped. Seeing the king, the messenger tried to rise, but the healer pushed him back down on the crate he was sitting on.

"Deacon," Matthias started and bent down to look the creature in the eyes. "Deacon, where is Syr Ettore and his retinue?"

The messenger only pierced his lips together and clenched his jaw against the tears that welled his eyes. Glancing around at the onlookers, the squirrel took a large breath and gave the barest of headshakes and shivered against an unspoken memory. Aesir furrowed his brow at the messenger's reaction and dismissed the dockyarder with a flick of his wrist, never taking his eyes off his father.

"Take him to the palace," Matthias said sternly and stretched up to his full height again. "Directly into my private chambers. Now."

* * *

"Come!" Matthias called when a knock sounded from the doors of his private chambers. Taking another drink from his wine goblet, the king continued to gaze upon the map of the northern state of Eutrusia that had been laid out on the table before him. He had been staring at it now for the better part of a bell, each moment growing tenser as visions of his old battles came back into his mind. Hearing the latch of the door click, Matthias looked up to see Aesir walk briskly into the chamber and wait to be received.

"Ah, Aesir," Matthias said. "I'm glad they were able to find you quickly."

"Yes, Lord Father," Aesir replied dutifully and gave a slight bow. "What news from the messenger?"

Matthias held a finger to his lips to silence his son until the doors were shut and they were alone before motioning Aesir to the table.

"Wine?" Matthias asked as Aesir came forward.

"You look like you've had enough for both of us," Aesir assessed and raised his eyebrow at the half empty decanter. His father was not usually a heavy drinker; whatever was on his mind from the messenger was weighing hard on his conscience. "I'll pass for now.

"Father," Aesir pressed once he saw the area the map depicted. "Father, what is this all about? The messenger, the map… you never drink midday…"

Matthias let out a single bark of laughter and sat down in his high-backed chair and made a gesture for Aesir to take up one of the other five seats.

"There is an uprising in Nilhand, Aesir," Matthias said plainly and took another gulp of wine. "A rebellion so to speak. They are opposing our rule."

Aesir sighed and rubbed his face with his paw. He had suspected as much from the arrival of the messenger, but why there would be a rebellion was still a mystery to him. He knew well enough from council meetings that Nilhand was the hardest of the states to manage, but Baron Falcor was supposed to keep the northerners in check as his title entailed. Something he clearly was not doing.

"What will you do, Father?"

"It is not what I will do Aesir, but what _you_ will do," Matthias responded. "You are my Captain of the Royal Guard and are old enough now to fulfill its responsibilities. You will lead the Guard into battle."

"Into battle against our own creatures?" Aesir questioned. "Father, surely an envoy…"

"Has been killed, yes," Matthias said quickly. "According to Deacon, Syr Ettore's head lays six paces from his body. Do you not think I have tried to make peace, son?"

Aesir shook his head. "How would I know what you are thinking when you haven't said a word about it until today? Father, you haven't even brought up anything at council…"

"Because it was not supposed to progress to this!" the king snapped and threw his chalice in the fire. "After the second envoy any beast would clearly see I am trying to be more than reasonable."

"What are the particulars?" Aesir breathed. "Why are they rebelling in the first place?"

"Their motives are unclear," the king replied with more poise than his previous statement. "Neither of my envoys were able to get anything out of them; as you saw, one didn't come home at all."

"Surely Falcor knows."

Matthias barred his teeth at the name. "Falcor will be lucky to be a _master_ when I am done stripping him of his titles.

"It all comes down to the chest, Aesir," Matthias relented and leaned forward in his chair to rest his elbows on his knees in a peasant-like position. "The chest the corsairs were after the day you and Cerys ran into them on the shore."

"It only had jewels in it. How could you possibly tied that in to Nilhand?"

"It bore the crest of the north," Matthias affirmed. "And vermin were collecting it. I believe you can put the pieces together from there."

"You think the Nilhanders are allying themselves with _corsairs?_" Aesir said, eyeing his father warily. "Father…"

"Assess the information we know, Aesir," Matthias voiced sternly, stretching back upright and rapping his claw on the armrest as he made each point. "A chest of jewels bearing the Nilhand crest is picked up by corsairs, Nilhanders resist Baron Falcor's presence in the north, they refuse to tell my first envoy the source of the gems or their intentions, _and_ my second envoy they behead without ceremony. That, my dear lad, is called _treason_; and treason is the seed of _rebellion_."

Aesir clenched his jaw against the sense of duty weighing heavy on his shoulders. Looking up at Matthias, he asked. "Are you coming with me?"

"No," Matthias replied and shook his head. "With you there our family is represented enough."

"And there is no other way? All avenues have been tried?"

"Yes, Aesir," Matthias said, annoyed that his son was seemingly skirting around the idea of warfare. "Find your courage, son. You are for battle."

"It is not my courage I need to find, Father," Aesir countered, rising from his chair and going to pace in front of the large hearth. "But the mind to fight my fellow Eutrusians."

"Well, find your mind and muster your army," Matthias asserted and turned his attention back to the map. "The healers have finished binding Deacon's wounds- thank the Seasons they were relatively minor and he is more traumatized than anything. I have sent him to the kitchens to be fed, and then have instructed a herald to escort him to the Council Chambers for you to discuss with him the whereabouts of rebellion's camp and their numbers."

"Yes," Aesir responded automatically as his mind reeled with lessons of his military training. Pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts, the prince looked at the trinkets and heirlooms which covered the polished granite mantle. After a moment, Aesir noticed a small gold bell and reaching up, took it in his paw, rolling it in his fingers and wiping off the dust. His father always had trinkets about his chamber. When he was younger, Aesir used to sit with him during the rains and Matthias would tell him the great stories behind each one. Though in all the times he had looked upon the mantle, he had never seen this particular bell or heard a story that recounted it before.

"Where did you get this trinket, Father?" Aesir asked, noting the ancient writing on the curve of the metal. Squinting at the inscription, Aesir recognized the familiar symbols of Badgerpaw writing. Although almost an extinct dialect, Matthias had insisted the prince learn the ancient script as a nod to the ancient alliance between Eutrusia and the great Badger Lords from the founding days.

"They found it in the records," Matthias mused, smiling at both the fact his son had found his newest addition to his collection and they were no longer discussing warfare, but his favourite topic: Eutrusian history. "Can you read it? Do you remember your lessons?"

Aesir nodded and cleared his throat.

"The bell will ring,  
One clear calm day,  
When the seasons' cycle ends.  
And the flower will sing,  
Where the Warrior stays,  
As the family will slowly mend.  
Their descendants will bring,  
All his courage to bay,  
Against vermin hordes, they'll fend.  
And they'll both smile down,  
And welcome them home,  
To the circle no beast could bend."

"Very good, Aesir," Matthias chuckled. "I'm glad you didn't sleep though all your lessons."

"Languages always interested me," Aesir confessed and grinned at the knowledge that his father knew about his naps during his lessons. He had, after all, felt the back of his tutor's paw on more than one occasion so it was not wholly surprising the king caught wind of his reposes. "But what does it mean?"

"No beast knows!" Matthias laughed and rose from his chair to stretch the worry of the previous topic from his body. "We know not where it came from or which beast it was meant for. The scholars have been all through the records, as have I. There is no mention of it as a gift or if it was made here in Eutrusia."

Walking over to his son, the king took the small bell from the prince and placed it back on the mantle.

"I believe it is a writing of things to come," Matthias confided. "Badgers are famously wise creatures. I am sure they have their own ways of seeing ahead into the mists and following their paths. We have no way of knowing who this bell is for, or its comforting words, but we can safeguard it for them. The bell will wait here until the creature it was meant for comes to collect it."

Aesir nodded in agreement at his father's sage words. Smiling as Matthias turned back to the table, Aesir remembered his father's depiction on the tapestry; a philosopher. He had always been one as far back as Aesir could remember. Aesir's expression hardened as he thought of his own image. A fighter. A brave mouse clad in battle armour. That was his path. His future was before him.

There was a gentle knock on the chamber door and at the king's call a young squirrel page stuck his head into the room. Looking at Aesir directly, he cleared his throat.

"The messenger is ready in the Chart Room, Your Highness."


	10. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"The northerners have two auxiliary camps located at the inlet of the River Eu and the base of the Isran Pass," Aesir stated as he pointed out the locations on the large map of Eutrusia carved into the great stone table in the Council Chamber. Around the stone sat Matthias with a pawful of chancellors and scribes standing behind, while the Lieutenants of the Royal Guard pulled up the remaining five seats; grim faced they sat, each of them carefully listening to the battle plans their new captain had devised.

"According to Deacon, their main camp is just past the bridges of Cartiak, settled in amongst the tree line," Aesir continued and pointed to the depiction of a dense forest. "After their execution of Syr Ettore, they would be daft not to be expecting the crown to retaliate. They will be watching every main entrance into Nilhand; every entrance large enough I could march the Guard through."

"Surely, they know they have weakened their numbers by dividing their forces," Lieutenant Olan grumbled as the leaned back in his chair. "Their numbers can't be that large that they can divide themselves amongst three separate camps."

"Not from what the messenger relayed yesterday," Matthias put in. "But he was just able to get away when Ettore and the others were killed; Deacon may not have seen the full scope of their numbers."

"They are dividing because they don't know where we will strike," Aesir asserted. "They have positioned themselves at all the major inlets into the north. It is a foolish decision- one we will ensure they will not forget they made."

The council let out a series of 'ayes' and heartily hammered fisted paws on the table in agreement. The king chuckled as he watched his son wave off the praise and continued divulging his plans to the war beasts. Was this the same mouse who only a few hours ago was struggling with the idea of fighting the rebellion? Now Aesir looked every bit Eutrusia's Captain of the Royal Guard; he was strong, solid and unwavering as he dictated his plans and courses of action. Matthias couldn't help but smile at the approving nods Aesir was receiving not only from the council elders standing in observation around the chamber, but also from the lieutenants who were much more seasoned war beasts than the young prince.

"Where will you strike, Your Highness?" one of the elders asked. "Where will you make your stand?"

"I will not chance three separate battles," Aesir voiced strongly. "If by their numbers are larger than ours, I will not risk the safety of the Guard by fighting on three fronts. We will concentrate all our efforts into one battle where we can use our tactics to our advantage."

Aesir took the small wooden blocks carved into the shape of ships and placed them at the docks located directly to the south of the inlet to the River Eu.

"I will take the fleet and land at the merchant docks west of Cartiak," Aesir confided. "By taking the ships, the Guard will be rested and ready for battle when we land. There is a small plain just to the southeast of the inlet. That is where we will meet them in battle; if it comes to that."

"And you think you can get them to combine their whole force?" Olan questioned, raising an eyebrow at the young captain.

"I do," Aesir nodded confidently and smiled at the squirrel. "If you were going up against the Royal Guard, would you not want all of your forces in one spot? Would you not want your numbers so great that you would have the best chance of crushing them?"

"Numbers don't win battles, Your Highness," an otter lieutenant named Evrol countered.

"No, but they don't know that," Aesir smirked. "Many of them are inexperienced in warfare. From what we know from Baron Falcor, Nilhand's citizens are mainly farmers and lumberjacks, and now apparently a few miners."

There were a few snickers and scoffs that muttered through the room at the prince's statement. Matthias just raised an eyebrow.

"Regardless of what their primary occupation is, you should not underestimate them," the king cautioned. "A beast defending their homeland can be as deadly as one hundred trained soldiers. Aesir, you must not be over confident."

"I won't be, Lord Father," Aesir replied and bowed his head in acknowledgement. "But we too are defending our homeland, our country, our _Eutrusia_. We too," Aesir paused and gestured around the table at his lieutenants, "are just as deadly."

Another round of pommeled paws rapped hard against the stone, echoing faith in Aesir's assurance.

Raising his paw to silence them, Matthias cleared his throat. "But what of the Nilhanders' numbers, Aesir? If the Guard does fall against them –"

"We won't fall, Lord Father," Aesir smiled at him and tapped the blade of his sword where it rested on the table with the rest of the council's arms; a symbol of the Guard's unity in the safety of Eutrusia. "I won't let us."

"Aesir…"

"Father, bravery is not found in the arms a beast bears, but in the beast that bears the arms," Aesir countered sternly and placed his paws on the table to lean assertively over the table, over Eutrusia. "We may not have the amount of beasts the northerners have, but we are brave and trained in our trade. We will return."

"Prince Aesir is right, Your Majesty," Lieutenant Klein agreed. "The Guard is well trained, and with all of us, our numbers would rival any force Nilhand could surely raise…"

"We aren't taking the whole Guard," Aesir interrupted, stretching up to his full height readying himself for resistance. Every beast present stopped and stared at the young mouse. "Some will stay behind in case these northerners play us false and march on the Vasilis once the Guard is in the north. Or if they truly are allying with corsairs, the scum attacks the south while we fight in the north. There must be a force here to put up an opposition until we can make our way back."

"Aesir, you must take the whole Guard with you," Matthias voiced strongly. "You must protect yourself."

"I _must_ protect Eutrusia," Aesir refuted. "I _must_ protect my family.

"I will be taking Lieutenants Klein and Olan with me," Aesir continued and nodded to the two creatures on his right. "Lieutenants Evrol, Malax and Condor will stay in Aurelius and protect the south if needed. I have sent missives to Wesrus and Eurus alerting Barons Trysten and Ulran to look to their own defenses until this uprising is diminished."

Matthias nodded in approval of Aesir's decisions. "When do you leave, Aesir?"

"With the tide, Father," Aesir smirked at the astonishment that flickered across some of the creatures' faces. "Admiral Daelahn is preparing the fleet as we speak and Syr Donovan is organizing the arms for the Guard."

"And who will you place as your second, Highness?" an elder asked as he gestured around the room. "With you gone in the north, who will make militant decisions in your stead?"

"My Lord Father, of course," Aesir replied and tilted his head towards the opposite end of the table. "King Matthias will act as Captain Intern in my absence. That is of course, if His Majesty does not object."

"I accept the role with honour, Your Highness," Matthias grinned and held back a chuckle at his son's formality.

"Good, that's settled then," Aesir chortled, settling back into his chair and tapping the stone table with his claw. "Now, back to Nilhand…"

There was a loud knock on the door of the chambers to silence the war council. All eyes turned to the entrance as the footbeasts pulled open the double doors and a young otter in an ensign's uniform came into the chamber. Stopping halfway between the doorway and the council table, the ensign gave a bow to the king and prince, before addressing Aesir directly.

"My Lord Admiral Daelahn has made the ships ready, Your Highness," he said strongly. "He asked that you be informed the tide will change within a bell."

"Then we don't have much time," Aesir firmed and stood again from his seat to address the youngster, "Thank-you, Ensign…?"

"Ensign Loreley, Your Highness," the young otter replied with another bow. "Loreley, son of Syr Janon of Falinery, sire."

"Very good, Loreley," Aesir acknowledged and picked up his blade from the table to silently conclude the council meeting. "Please inform the admiral the Guard will be there momentarily."

The ensign bowed for the third time, backing away four steps, before turning on his heel to stride out of the Council Chambers. Aesir gave a few more instructions to the lieutenants staying behind and with a formal leave from the king, turned to the mouse and squirrel waiting for him to the right of the door. Aesir grinned at their serious faces and walked up to them in full confidence. Klein and Olan bowed their heads at the prince's approach, causing Aesir to give a light chuckle before clapping them both heartily on the backs.

Giving each of their shoulders a reassuring squeeze, the young captain proclaimed, "Shall we have a race to see who can get their ship and troops loaded the quickest?"

* * *

Aesir stood on the bow of Eutrusia's flagship, _Mawredd_, as the mighty ship pushed herself through the growing waves of the sea. He loved the feel of the sea breeze and the spray from the waves breaking against the hull on his face. When he was a small mouselet he would often accompany his father on the ship and more than once he sent the crew into hysterics when he would climb over the riggings and lay on his belly on the bowsprit watching the water break over the stem. Matthias would just laugh at his courageous son and say that it was a good thing he knew how to swim. Aesir smiled at the fond memory. How he loved the sea!

He was formally clad in a shining breastplate and billowing red cloak, distinguishing him as Captain of the Royal Guard. His left paw rested upon his sword hilt where it was sheathed at his side and in his right he held the rose gold coronet of Eutrusia's Etifedd. His parents had insisted he wear it for the ceremonial send off, but as soon as his paws touched the main deck, Aesir had taken the coronet off. He knew he was a creature of two beasts, but one this journey, he only needed to be one.

Hearing the admiral shouting orders to the crew to drop the main sails, Aesir turned and made his way towards the quarter deck.

"Your Highness!" Admiral Daelahn called as Aesir bound easily up the steps to the quarter deck. "The wind is in our favour. I've ordered the sails t'full rope, Highness."

"Good," Aesir mused and greeted the otter as he reached the top plank. "May the Seasons grant us a fair winds and smooth waters."

"Yes, Your Highness," the admiral replied, turning the wheel to shift the mighty vessel to her course.

"Enough with the formality, Admiral," Aesir stated, walking to the back of the quarter deck to the Royal Cabin and tossing his coronet across the chamber to land on the turned down bed. "I'm simply a captain on this journey."

"Right," the otter drawled out and shouted another order to the crew. Expertly, the admiral watched the sails as he turned the helm until he saw the wind push strongly into the canvas. "With this stiff breeze, we should reach the Nilhand in four days, your… Captain."

"All the better," Aesir smiled and leaned over the railing to watch the other two ships skimming behind them on the starboard side. "They're not going to keep up, Daelahn."

"No, but we can let ol' _Mawredd_ stretch her legs a bit then back her off," he chuckled. "A quick departure makes for a faster return; or so your grandfather used t'say!"

"Ha!" Aesir barked a syllable of a laugh and turned his attention back to the main deck where the Guard was moving up and down to the quarters below deck. "What did my grandfather used to say?"

"Well, your… Captain," the admiral corrected when Aesir gave him a stern look. "Your grandfather Martin used t'have the oddest saying… what was it now? Ah yes! Now I remember.

"'Quicker t'battle, easy ta war. Through feast and famine, we'll come home once more!'"

"What was that supposed to mean?" Aesir asked and snorted comically as he saw a few of the newest Guards run to the railing and retch over the side.

"I think he was always in a hurry t'get ta battle so he could defeat his opponent and come home again," the Daelahn sighed. "He was always wanting t'go home ta, well, Her Majesty, your mother, and your grandmother, Dame Branlin. When he was home, he could just be the beast he wanted t'be and not the creature he had ta become."

Aesir nodded as he continued to watch the few Guards drop to the deck holding their stomachs.

"I think I'll go offer those poor beasts some water," Aesir chuckled as more Guards lined the outer railing. "I suppose I take it for granted that I have firm seapaws when I planned this transportation."

"They'll get their paws soon enough, Your… er, Captain," the admiral laughed. "Order 'em below deck and put 'em in a hammock. Ol' _Mawredd_ here will her babes t'sleep soon enough."

* * *

By nightfall, they had slowed down their pace for the other ships to catch up and the Guards had found their seapaws. Aesir insisted they all ate a hearty meal of vegetable stew, salted cod and flax bread, determined he was going to keep their spirits high. Breaking open an ale keg himself, the prince handed out mugs of the frothy brew to each of the fighters, conversing and getting to know each of them. He felt at home amongst the Guard. He felt like he belonged. There was no pomp or formality. No gallant gestures or greetings he had to remember. He only needed to remember each beast's name and where they were in his formation.

With their stomachs full and their mugs brimming with brew, it didn't take long for the air to be merry and laughter echo to the stars far above the sails. Some of the crew beasts started playing a tune on some upturned buckets and a few homemade reed flutes. Aesir was surprised when a mouse, not much order than himself, got to his footpaws and started singing an airy tune about a great warrior whose love was lost in the mist.

"Augh, no more o' that lovey stuff, Cam!" Loukin yelled from where he was leaning against the Admiral's cabin beside Aesir. "Sing something to lighten our hearts up!"

"And I suppose you could do better?" the mouse challenged, taking his flagon back from a friend and gestured to the open deck from where he sang his melody.

"Aye!" Loukin winked and took another gulp of his ale before handing his mug to Aesir. "Get those drums going- move those paws. Get a'stomppin' on the deck and a'clappin' in the air. This song is best sung with some noise!"

Aesir laughed as the veteran started jumping round the circle to the beat, encouraging the others around him to pick up on his excitement before starting his song.

"When I was a lad,  
I did see many things go  
The to and from and afterwards of battles!  
And I never could decide  
If to see with my own eyes,  
Would make the vict'ry sweeter  
Than the pain felt!  
When then it was my time,  
And I fell into the line,  
I felt the angst and hopelessness before me!  
Then a brave smile I felt,  
And my worries they did melt.  
We could not fail at all with his bravery!  
So you walk the dirt path,  
And I'll swim the streambed,  
And I'll get to the Dark For'st before you!  
With a sword held in my paw,  
And my love upon my arm,  
And no pain to struggle through in the morning!"

Guard and crew alike were thumping along as the otter continued his verses. A few of them stood and danced through a wheel, all of them raising their voices to sing the chorus as it came around in turn.

Aesir snickered as he watched the camaraderie before him. Looking up at the quarter deck he saw the Admiral still at the wheel, smirking at the scene below him. Aesir smiled and set down his mugs on a barrel, before climbing the stairs to be with the otter. They both shared a quiet smile and watched the creatures' revelry on the main deck.

"Their morale is high, Captain," the Daelahn nodded when Aesir leaned on the railing.

"It's a good thing, sire," the admiral continued when Aesir looked over his shoulder at his statement. "You'll be at battle soon enough where there are no songs 'r dances, but that of ta Fates.'"

"Yes," Aesir sighed, turning away from the lower deck and gazing out into the calm waters. "Once we have landed, the Guard will empty as quickly as we can. Then you should take the ships back out to sea. They won't do a beast any good if the Nilhanders try and torch them."

"But what if you need a quick escape?" the otter pressed, eyeing the prince cautiously. "I may not be able t' get them to turn round ta head to get you if the tide's not high."

"We won't need a quick escape, Daelahn," Aesir said plainly. "We will either go home with peace or not at all."

The admiral nodded in acknowledgement. Secretly, the admiral wondered if the rumours about him were true. All through Aurelius they were calling him the Red Prince. He had heard from some of the Guard who had been on the beach the day they pulled the fighting prince home that his eyes were bright red while he fought against the corsairs. What a sight it would have been to see!

Their last Captain of the Guard, Aesir's grandsire, had also had the red eyes and though the admiral had taken him on several occasions to and from battle, he never saw him fight; not to mention he was only a captain. Aesir was Eutrusia's prince as well as their Captain of the Royal Guard. No longer would royalty sit behind the lines and wait for the final charge of victory. This mouse would lead his Guard into battle. The idea of it inspired him with hope and pride. The Red Prince would lead them to victory. He knew it.

"Well, Admiral," Aesir said giving him a hearty slap on the back. "I'm off to bed. I'll be up again before dawn."

"Aye, Captain," the Admiral smirked at Aesir's ease and relaxed protocol. King Matthias would never have acknowledged him so equally. "I'll get the crew to hush up."

"No need," Aesir assured him as the prince strode towards the Royal Cabin off the quarter deck. "I can sleep through it just fine. Let them have their songs. Like you said – we'll be without them soon enough."

"As you wish, sire," Daelahn nodded and tilted his head towards the prince. "G'night, High- er, Captain."

"Good evening, Lord Admiral," Aesir replied formally, stepping through the entrance and closing the door to the cabin. The moon illuminated through the large windows at the rear, casting a bluing light over the furnishing of the chamber. Aesir sighed and walked over to where his armour was placed on a stand and unsheathed his jewelled sword from its scabbard. Circling it with a twist of his wrist, he frowned when the blade hesitated on its way up. The balance was still off despite Aesir prying some of the emeralds out of the hilt. Sighing, he put the blade back in its sheath and went to the flat chest he had insisted accompany him to war. It had puzzled every beast as to why he had packed a chest and not just simply a haversack for their journey, but Aesir had his own reason.

Opening the lid he dug through his tunics and shirts to the bottom where his paw came in contact with a familiar item. The prince smiled at the feel of the worn leather handle and pulled out his grandsire's sword.

"You didn't think I would leave you behind, did you?" Aesir chuckled to the blade. Taking the sword from its scabbard, Aesir twisted his wrist and relished the speed in which the blade traveled its way up to the top of the circle. That was how a sword should respond to movements. Decisively. Dangerously. Without hesitation.

Aesir placed the sword back in its sheath and laid it beside his armour. It would be the sword he would carry into battle. He tapped the blade on the hilt and grinned at it before undoing the buckles holding his breastplate and cape to his body. Discarding the items carefully on the stand, the prince took a woollen blanket from the bed to drape over his shoulders and walked over to settle himself on a large chair looking out of the windows. Quietly, he closed his eyes and listened to the songs out on the deck and tried to think of his battle strategy, but his mind wandered to earlier that day when he made his goodbyes to his family. His parents had formally farewelled him and wished him luck in battle, but it was Cerys's goodbye that stuck in his mind.

She hadn't been present during the official send off, but then she didn't need to be. She was only a princess and did not have any command on what he was about to do, but Aesir had thought she would have wanted to see him off. It stung him slightly when he noticed she wasn't there. A sting that didn't last long...

"_You'll keep yourself safe won't you?" a soft voice whispered behind him and Aesir inspected a bundle of spears on the dock by _Mawredd's_ ramp. He smiled at the familiar tone._

_"Probably not," Aesir jested and turned around to face her. She was clad in a long russet cloak to hide her identity, its hood pulled up high over her headfur. "But that doesn't mean I'll be hurt."_

_"Don't get hurt Aesir," Cerys breathed, looking up at him anxiously. "Please Aesir, don't get hurt."_

_"It's not exactly a goal," Aesir laughed. "But it's war Cerys. Injuries happen."_

_Cerys shook her head and rolled her eyes at him._

_"Is everything a jest to you?" Cerys countered, her paws visibly wringing beneath her cloak. "Are you not afraid?"_

_"No," Aesir chuckled. "Why are you?"_

_"Yes," Cerys said quietly, looking at her footpaws. "I am."_

_"Why?" Aesir asked softly and brought her chin up to look at him with his paw. Seeing worry reflecting in her eyes, he whispered, "You should never feel frightened when I'm around Cerys. I will always protect you."_

_"But you won't be around," Cerys whispered back. "You're leaving…"_

_"To keep you safe," Aesir affirmed. "Sometimes Cerys, we must travel far to protect the ones closest to us."_

_"Do you always say the right thing?" Cerys laughed and gave him a bright smile._

_"Are you ever where you are should be?" Aesir chuckled at her and gestured to their surroundings; a dockyard full of soldiers and crew beasts. Not a very appropriate place for a princess to be seen - an unescorted princess at that._

_"What do you think?" Cerys winked at him before turning when a sailor gave a loud shout in warning for a runaway water barrel heading in their direction._

_Cerys was bumped by the rolling barrel and she fell forward into Aesir's arms. Effortlessly, he pulled her up and held her to his body. Staring down into her soft green eyes he smiled at her astonished expression._

_"You are never where you should be," he chuckled at her and lightly brushed a piece of her headfur back from where it had fallen loose. "But you always seem to be where I am," he added in a low whisper, as he gently ran his paw down her cheek. "So soft, Cerys."_

_Aesir let his paw trace the line of her jaw before stopping at the center of her chin. Without thinking, Aesir let his finger touch her lips, pulling her bottom one into a slight pout. He drew a short intake of breath when she inhaled deeply at his action and raise her eyes to him lovingly. Aesir continued to look at her lips, her soft warm lips and began to wonder what they would feel like on his. His own eyes narrowed as he realized he wanted to kiss her._

Stop thinking like that_, Aesir berated himself. He knew he should let her go now that she had her footing, but he couldn't. He wanted to hold her tight; he didn't care anymore about what he should do and started feeling only what he wanted to do. Gently, Aesir took Cerys's face in both his paws and slowly lowered his face to hers._

_"Your Highness, the tide won't wait!" the admiral shouted down to him, breaking Aesir's train of thought and causing him to straighten up abruptly. "You can kiss your doxy when we get back, Your Highness- the sea is calling!"_

_"I have to go," Aesir murmured, reluctantly letting go of her face as Cerys pulled the cloak hood further forward to hide her features. "Wish me luck?"_

_"I wish you all the luck in Eutrusia," Cerys breathed, flustered at his actions. _

_"Seasons speed your journey, Aesir," Cerys continued as protocol slowly came back to her. Backing away from him hesitantly, the princess slipped seemingly into the crowd and disappeared quickly amongst the other creatures..._

_You always where you shouldn't be,_ Aesir mused, coming out of his memory and letting the gentle sway of the ship slowly rock him to sleep. _You shouldn't be there, but you are always in my heart._


	11. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Aesir awoke to shouts and the sound of running footpaws along the quarter deck. He could hear Admiral Daelahn yelling orders to the crew and calling for a beast to flag the other Eutrusian vessels before paw rapped loudly on his cabin door.

"Captain, there are ships off t'port!"

Aesir jumped from his chair, tossing his blanket aside and striding over to his armour while rubbing his eyes against the dim light reflecting off the seawater through his windows and pushing sleep from his mind. Quickly, he settled his red cloak about his shoulders, grabbing his sword from his stand and buckling the scabbard to his belt before leaving the cabin into the brisk morning air.

The ship was a flurry of activity as creatures scurried about to obey the admiral's orders; climbing riggings, hauling on ropes and drawing in _Mawredd's_ golden sails to slow the ship's forward motion.

"Captain- ships off the port bow," Admiral Daelahn said sharply directing Aesir's gaze out to sea where two ships a league from the small fleet could be seen moving slowly north. The prince crossed the deck to the railing and squinted his eyes briefly before Ensign Loreley held up a brass spyglass for the royal mouse. Without a word, Aesir accepted the scope and held it to his eye to view the horizon. The ships had gray sails similar to the ones on the small vessel the corsairs had that he and Cerys encountered on the beach. He could feel his teeth clench and the excitement start to stir in him again.

"Where did they come from?" Aesir asked pointedly, holding the spyglass out for Loreley to collect and turning his full attention to the otter.

"Further out t'sea by the looks of the riggings," the admiral informed him. "They were headed straight for us 'til they saw _Mawredd's_ gold sails then turned their rudder north. They don't want t'engage us."

"Strange," Aesir mused leaning on the railing and clenching the wood with his paws, the sea breeze whipping his cloak about his body. "If they're corsairs, you think they would have relished the idea of battling us at sea."

"They have in the past," Daelahn sighed. Pausing for a moment to see if Aesir responded, the sea otter shook his head and pointed a claw at the masts. "I've given the order t'raise the sails and let them go ahead of us t'get some distance between us."

Aesir tapped the polished railing with his fisted paw as he weighed his options. With one final slap of his palm, he turned back to the helm.

"No, push ahead," Aesir countered. "If they were going to fight us, they would have done so already and we have our own agenda to keep."

"But Captain –"

"Full sail, Admiral," Aesir commanded. "Bring her hard to starboard and keep her close to the shoreline. Give us a wide berth, but let's not let their presence hinder our course.

"All paws to the main deck!" Aesir yelled to the crewbeasts and moved to lean over the quarter deck railing for all to see him. Seeing some of the Guard starting to climb out of the ship's hatch, he ordered, "Guards to the side rails with arrows and a torch every three beasts. Make ready, but hold fire until my call."

Turning back to the admiral, the prince added sternly, "If they turn on us, we'll be ready, but I must get to the north with all speed, Admiral."

"As you command, Captain," the sea otter nodded and began shouting his orders to drop the sails again.

"Loukin!" Aesir called to the otter from where he stood by the main mast. "Up into the nest with you- don't lose sight of those ships. I want to know where they are going."

"Aye, Captain," the otter chimed and threw Aesir a quick salute before turning to climb the riggings to the admiral's steady commands.

"Paws to the ropes and hoist the gallant- Pull t'scapper and let loose the staysail! Work your back an' her for speed, mates!"

* * *

"Plains be cursed," Baron Ulran growled as he read the ending of the missive in his paws, its heavy silver rollers and red wax seal identifying it as a royal message. "Damn the Fates' to their own fires!"

"Is something wrong, my lord baron?" a serving beast asked as he laid out a tray of pastries and fruit for the baron's morning meal on the rounded table in Ulran's private chambers. "Is there something I can get for you?"

"Summon Syr Fendrel to the Great Hall immediately," Ulran snapped and reached for his overrobe that was resting over the back of his chair. "And where is that son of mine? Where is Lord Ulrick?"

"Lord Ulrick is already in the hall breaking his fast with the Lady Ulyssa, my lord baron," the servant replied dutifully. "I will go directly to Syr Fendrel…"

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Ulran thundered. "Go _now!"_

"Ulran, what is all the yelling about?" a soft voice whispered when the door closed behind the scurrying creature. Ulran sighed and turned to the screen which closed off the sleeping quarters from the sitting area of the baronial chambers to see his wife pulling a dressing robe over her night gown.

"Dellia, you aren't supposed to be out of bed!" Ulran gasped and strode forward to gently guide her back onto the mattress again. "You know what the healers said - you have to stay off your paws."

"You were yelling," the mousemaid breathed and smiled contently as she rested her weakened body against the mound of pillows once more. "I thought something was wrong."

"It's nothing for you to worry about, Lia," Ulran said softly and pulled the covers up over her legs. "Kirk brought up some breakfast," the baron continued, changing the subject completely while he opened up a window for fresh air and began picking up vials from their holder to look for one not yet used. "And there's some peach cordial still left from…"

"Ulran, no more of those tinctures," Dellia retorted when he found a full tube and uncorked it. "They just make me sleep."

"Which is what you need to do to recover," he countered and held out the vial for her. At her hesitation, he grinned and added, "Come on Dellia- drink this and I will tell your pawmaids you are still asleep and no beast will bother you until noontide."

"You drive a hard bargain," the baroness grinned lightly and glanced at the side table where a thick volume rested. "You just know I am at a good spot."

"Perhaps," Ulran chuckled and sat down on the side of the bed still holding the vial. "What is it with your family that you all like to read so much? Between you and your brother, the whole of Eutrusia's archives have been read!"

"Matthias and I like literature," Dellia replied gently. "We always have."

"Well, I suppose it's your mirth," Ulran said happily and kissed her forehead. "Please Lila, drink this. For me."

"After you tell me what my brother wants that has you cursing like a fieldpaw," she said plainly and pointed a thin claw at the scroll in Ulran's other paw.

"It's from your nephew actually."

"Aesir?"

"Yes," Ulran sighed and corked the vial before placing it on the table so he could rub his face in obvious stress. "He writes to tell me to look to my borders and arm my fighters. The king sent up another envoy to Nilhand and he was killed. The prince has assembled the Royal Guard and is on his way north to deal with the rebels as we speak."

"Is it that serious?" Dellia asked and tried to sit up before Ulran gently pushed her down again. "Matthias did not march as well, did he?"

"No. He is at Vasilis acting as Captain Intern while Aesir is in Nilhand."

"Good," the baroness whispered and relaxed slightly. "Seasons guard my nephew from harm.

"You are worried, Ulran," she observed when Ulran nodded and started to pace about richly furnished chamber of Lysium's baronial quarters. "Why?"

"I can't help but wonder if this could have been avoided if I had gone north myself," Ulran confessed. "I have a feeling my decision to send Ulrick in my stead was…"

"Rash? Impulsive?" Dellia started to list.

"Like my father," Ulran grimaced at the words. "My father would have taken the king's orders and manipulated them to his way- just as I did.

"Ah, I should have told him," he continued and made a swatting motion at the open air. "I should have written to Matthias to let him know I couldn't go; that you were ill again. But I just didn't think there was time. I didn't think it would be a difficult mission and Ulrick would have been able to handle it fine. I thought surely with the weight of responsibility from a royal assignment would make him use tact."

"But Ulran, your son said the northerners were difficult, not violent," Dellia countered. "How would you have known what was to come?"

"The Nilhanders' may have been difficult with Ulrick, but what did he do to turn them violent?" Ulran relented. "He was always one to believe force was the way to get his needs. I am afraid of what he _hasn't_ told me."

"Ulrick would lie to you - his own father?"

"Oh no, Lia," Ulran chortled despite the seriousness of the conversation. "He wouldn't _lie;_ he'd just perhaps fail to mention a few _minor_ details. Don't forget, my dear, he was primarily raised by my father and sister. Caralyn died birthing him and I was off fighting with your brother against the Uprising. I should have brought Ulrick to Aurelius with me when I remained at court to try and patch up political holes the rebellion cost my family, but I thought at the time it was best for him to be raised in Eurus - in his own state. It wasn't until Matthias allowed me to wed you after your Lord Aarod died, I knew there was royal trust in our family again and I could return home."

"Ulran, he was still young when we came to Lysium," Dellia said softly. "You employed all the correct tutors and…"

"Lia, Ulrick was only six seasons when we came back here. He should have relished in the idea of a mother - real or step, it shouldn't have mattered to him. Instead of a hug and a kiss, he greeted you with a frown and a haughty _my lady_. He didn't even use your true title…"

"He did," she chuckled. "You were still a lord, Ulran- your father still ruled the baronage. I was simply a _lady_."

"He should have addressed you as _your highness_- you were a princess…"

"I _was_, yes. But once I married you, I became your wife, your _lady._"

"I'm trying to point out the fact those words were straight out of my sister's mouth," Ulran said firmly. "After Matthias married Valina… well, neither Ulyssa nor my father would… could let go of their resentment and dripped poison in Ulrick's ears from both sides; the mutterings of a failed schemer in one and the whispers of a disgruntled harpy in the other.

"So, to get back to your original question; no, I don't think Ulrick would lie to me, but he would only tell me as much as he thought I needed to know."

Dellia exhaled slowly and watched Ulran march about the room, his brow furrowed in deep creases and his paws clenching and unclenching behind his back as he thought. She knew herself Neron and Ulyssa had warped her stepson's way of thinking, but what could Ulran have done when he didn't know they would do such a thing as corrupt the mind of his son? Both she and Ulran hoped desperately that Ulrick's marriage to Cerys would be enough to satisfy the fire in the young lord by giving him a stake in the royal family he so ardently sot.

"I have to go meet Syr Fendrel and organize the fighters and border holds," Ulran said plainly and turned back to his wife where she smiled softly to him in the morning light. Settling back down on the bed, the baron took her paws in his and gave them a gentle squeeze. "Please drink the tincture, Lia. Please rest and please, Seasons please, get better soon. Lysium needs its baroness to make the days bright and warm. Without you, the plains will fail to grow their crops and too much rain will come. I can't govern Eurus without you. I need my princess by my side."

"I will rest, Ulran," Dellia smiled and pulled his paws up to her lips to lay on them a soft kiss. "Give me a week or two and I will be better. I promise."

Giving a little giggle, she added with a wink, "At least while I'm ill I won't have to suffer the company of your sister!"

* * *

For two days, Aesir watched the two galleys from the quarter deck as they pushed north a league away from the small royal fleet. All around him was activity, but he barely acknowledged it; Aesir's attention was focused on the corsairs.

"Where do you suppose they are going?" Aesir questioned as the admiral came up beside him at midday and offered him a beaker of warmed wine. The air was getting colder and they could see their breath now as proof of their northern voyage. In the distance to the east, tall mountain peaks could be seen jetting out of dense forests towards the sky like spearheads- a sure sign they were now firmly in the state of Nilhand.

"I'm not sure, Your Highness," Daelahn replied, forgetting Aesir's wish to be addressed as Captain. "But judging by the waves, we're close to the merchant docks."

"The waves?" Aesir questioned and looked down at the white caps forming on the waters below them.

"Aye," the admiral winked. "Seas get rougher the further north you go."

"I thought you said we'd be there on the fourth day?"

"We're in t'current traveling this close inland," the otter deduced and took a drink of his own beaker. Clicking his tongue at the spices, he asked, "You still want us t'shove off once you're unloaded?"

"Yes," Aesir said strongly, taking sip of his drink as well. "Stay off the current and keep out of range. If you do not see our banners within a week, sail south and tell my father to look to Eutrusia's safety."

The admiral simply nodded in response.

"Where are they going?" Aesir sighed with a slight growl as he looked forward towards the gray ships again. "Do you recognize their colours, Daelahn?"

"They have the same sails as those from t'galley you faced in Aurelius," he replied. "But no, Captain; I don't know their colours."

"I would love to follow them," Aesir breathed, letting his hackles rise and his voice drop. He wanted to fight and there in front of him was an easy battle. He felt himself craving the red in his eyes.

"Are you alright, Captain?" Daelahn quietly as he watched Aesir's demeanour start to change from the carefree mouse he had laughed with earlier to one of serious and precarious conduct.

"I'm fine," Aesir snapped, holding the beaker tightly in his paws and closing his eyes. Taking a deep breath he corrected his tone. "I'm fine, Lord Admiral."

"Admiral Daelahn!" an otter cadet yelled down from the nest at the top of the mainmast where he stood beside Loukin. "Northern docks off the starboard bow!"

"Loukin, where are those gray ships headed?" Aesir called to the fighter after the admiral started giving orders to bring the ship to port and Loukin climbed down the riggings.

"Still on a course north, Your Highness!" Loukin replied as he ascended the steps to the quarter deck. "It looks like we're going to lose them."

Aesir snorted in frustration and strode back to the Royal cabin, slamming the door behind him. Striding over to his armour, Aesir discarded his cloak and jerkin and started buckling on his plates. By the time he was on his greaves there was a slight knock at the door.

"Come!" Aesir barked in a loud voice. Seeing Loukin come through the doorway, Aesir gave him a curt nodded and picked up his other greave to begin fixing it to his leg. "Prepare the Guard, Loukin. As soon as the ships are docked, we march inland."

"Aye, Captain," the otter said, moving slowly towards the young mouse. "Are you alright, Your Highness?"

"Why does every beast think there is something wrong with me?" Aesir growled. "I'm fine, Loukin. See to your duties."

"I am, Captain," Loukin breathed. "I'm your shieldbeast."

"My what?"

"Your shieldbeast," Loukin smiled as he helped fix Aesir's cloak to his breastplate. "I will be on your shield arm come the battle charge. I need to make sure you are ready."

"I'm ready, Loukin," Aesir breathed.

"Did he ever tell you?" the otter whispered apprehensively in the awkward silence that followed. "Did your grandsire ever tell you how to control it?"

Aesir gave the otter a puzzled look. "I know how from the legend."

"But _he_ never told you how to stop your bloodwrath?" Loukin pressed. "How to calm your mists?"

"I was too young when he died," Aesir confessed slowly. "At that time they weren't sure if… well, why are you asking me these things?" Aesir asked pointedly. He felt strange about talking about his bloodwrath with the Guard. Shieldbeast or not, Aesir barely understood the gift himself, let alone having to explain it to the otter.

"I need to know what your memory is…"

"Memory?"

"Yes, Your Highness," Loukin said gently. "The word or phrase or something that makes you stop your bloodwrath.

"I need to know, Captain," Loukin continued. "I need to know what to remind you of to bring you out of your mists when the battle is won."

"I don't understand, Loukin," Aesir said shaking his head. "Won't I just stop like I did last time?"

"Not if there's still an enemy," the otter replied. "You'll keep going unless you can pull yourself back. But if you fail yourself and can't control it, I need to remind you of your memory to help you stop. It's my responsibility."

Aesir sighed and buckled his sword belt above his hip plates in silence.

"Your memory, Your Highness?" Loukin implored when the calls of the crew sounded as _Mawredd_ pulled alongside the docks.

"I…"

"Something greater than yourself," Loukin said quickly. "Something you will want to return to…"

_Cerys,_ Aesir thought to himself. How could he tell Loukin that? He could barely let his heart tell his own mind…

"Oranges and cloves," Aesir responded after a moment of thought. "Just remind me about oranges and cloves."

"Oranges and cloves?" Loukin gaped and skewed up his nose in confusion. "Oranges and… and cloves?"

Aesir nodded. "Yes, Loukin. Oranges and cloves."

"Sounds… great."

"Yes," Aesir smirked at the stunned otter's response. To any other beast it must sound like an absurd combination, but to Aesir, hearing those to words would always remind him of Cerys when she kissed him on the forehead while he was injured and her headfur fell all around him - when he dream of… more.

Patting the bemused otter on the shoulder, Aesir gave him a brave smile. "Come Loukin. Quicker to battle, easy to war. Through feast and famine, we'll come home once more."

* * *

They pushed east through the night, Aesir marching the Guard hard to get to the plain he denoted as their battlefield.

"I want the banners raised and standards flying by dawn," he commanded when they reached their position. "I want every Nilhander scout and watch beast to see we are here at morning's first light."

By morning they were set. The red and gold banners bearing the Eutrusian crest of sword and scroll fluttered in the strong breeze and their tents spanned a wide berth crossway down the plain. Every beast waited in quiet anticipation for a reaction. They didn't have to wait long.

By midday they started noticing movement across the lea, small at first, but distinct. By dusk there were definite creatures situated before them.

"Do we send out a negotiator, Your Highness?" Olan asked as the lieutenants sat with Aesir around a fire the following evening eating a hastened meal of river shrimp and hardtack.

"No," Aesir said sternly, shaking his head. "There will be more of them by morning. Besides they must not have a senior officer in their midst yet or they would already have come to us."

"We'll light extra fires tonight," Klein stated. "Make them think that our numbers are greater than they really are."

Aesir nodded his agreement and leaned back on his elbows.

"Will we march on them in the morning, Your Highness?" Olan asked, anxiously wanting to know the young mouse's plan now that they were at battle.

"No, Olan," Aesir laughed. "And call me Captain, please. While we're on a march I am your Captain of the Guard first and a prince second."

"If you insist, your… Captain," Olan replied. "But Captain, if what are we going to do if we are not going to fight them?"

"There is more than one way to stop a rebellion, Olan," Aesir exhaled and stretched his footpaws towards the fire. "I am still struggling with the idea of fighting my fellow Eutrusians. If I can avoid a fight, I will."

"Captain, they have already killed your father's envoys," Klein pointed out. "I would have to say they are not interested in idle talk."

"Yes, I'm sure they've heard enough of pompous messengers telling them how they ought to conform," Aesir chuckled. "But I am not interested in telling them _how_ to act, but rather find out _why_ they are acting this way and find a solution."

"So, we aren't for battle then," Olan asked, trying to wrap his head around Aesir's reasoning. "Forgive me Captain, but at the palace…"

"At Vasilis I asserted that I would move the Guard north and end the resistance," Aesir voiced sternly, becoming annoyed that he was being questioned. "I will try to dissolve the rebellion without force if I can, but if it comes down to it, we will stand against them."

"Spoken with wisdom beyond your seasons, Prince Aesir," Klein praised him and smiled approvingly as the prince pushed himself back up into a sitting position.

"Get some rest," Aesir commanded, getting to his footpaws and pulling his cloak tighter to his body to ward off the northern chill. "We will need to meet with them at dawn."

The lieutenants nodded and watched as Aesir walked towards his pavilion and slipped under the tent flap.

"Young fool is going to get us killed," he hissed towards Klein. "And you encourage him."

"I'm interested to see how he will make this work," Klein chuckled to himself and rubbed his paws together to encourage them to absorb more heat from the flames. "Relax, Olan. We have the Red Prince on our side."

"He is young," Olan countered. "He's never even seen a _real_ battle…"

"He'll be fine once his paws are wet. Give him a chance. You may be surprised."

"And you may end up dead," Olan growled at the mouse. "His grandfather would never…"

"Never have thought to talk to his enemy?" Klein mused and wiggled about trying to get comfortable on the hard ground. "No, he gets that from his father. King Matthias sent two envoys up here before he chose to involve his son."

"He should have sent us up here first," Olan huffed and pulled his cloak up further around his shoulders. "We could have stopped them before they grew so large…"

"Oh, and slicing a few farmers' throats would have made the others stop their grumbling?" Klein laughed. "Olan, go get some sleep before you dig yourself a hole even your ruddy tail can't climb out of!"

"I'm telling you…"

"You are telling me nothing but jabbering at this point!" Klein said angrily and got to his footpaws to order more fires built around the camp. "Get some sleep, Olan. Tomorrow will be a long day."


	12. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Captain Talt was a miserable old salt. The searat was known for his quick temper, hidden daggers and drunken left-paw flagon throws. For seasons he had asserted himself as a master sailor amongst vermin of the southern waters of the Western Sea and quickly acquired the possessions of a commodore; boosting three ships and crews under his command in addition to his own. Clad all in black from his head to tail tip, the rat strode over the main deck of the galley as a stoat was whipping the oarslaves into punting the ships over the sandbar at the inlet of the river.

"Push 'em hard, Clawfang," Talt ordered as the lash cracked against the fur of an old hedgehog. "The jewels not be waiting fer us. We needs t'get 'em 'n get back t'sea with all haste."

It was a dangerous enough mission to travel within range of the Eutrusian fleet, but to enter the realm itself was tempting the very Fates. Still the prize they could get was worth the risk.

"Harsk!" the captain shouted to the stem where a short weasel was staring down the river and seemingly taking in the scenery. "Where be t'place ya found them stones?"

"Down the river a'ways, Cap'n," Harsk replied. "Me 'n Flattail found the woodlanders loadin' 'em up on a barge further inland. We's snitched the chest afore they cou'd catch us."

"Well keep a weather'd eye out," Talt snarled out the order and turned back to the captain's quarters on the deck. "Tat be t'royal fleet tat tailed us up 'ere 'n I wanna be in 'n out t'gain afore they march inlan' at us. Pausing at the door, the searat growled over his shoulder.

"Get us offa this bar o' y'all be drinkin' bilge fer another week, ya lazy woodsscum!"

Everybeast holding an oar grunted in renewed exertion.

* * *

The sun rose red in the eastern sky, illuminating the Guard with pink hues as they marched out in formation towards the growing number of creatures across the plain. Forward they walked in time to the beats of the war drums and the steady bays from the Eutrusian triple-belled horns. The Royal Guard in full battle regalia was a sight to behold; each beast wore a full coat of chainmail and breastplate, a shield in one paw and a spear in the other. For close combat they were armed with the paw weapon of their choice; swords, axes, double tipped javelins- whatever their strength was. Above the mass of steel and fur, large standards proudly displayed the royal crest and long banners streamed like red tails across the sky. Onwards they marched towards the ragtag group of rebels, their chinks clinking with their motion, their footpaws striking the ground harder than normal to shake the ground and their arms held slightly wider than necessary to stretch out the line further and give the aura they were greater in number than they were.

Aesir strode out bravely before the Guard wearing his full battle armour and Etifedd's coronet. His armour was polished to a high shine and every movement emulated a glint of sunlight from his plates. Beneath his armour, the prince wore a bronze chainmail shirt which matched the rose gold of his coronet and enhanced the red of his battle cloak clipped to his shoulders. The prince rested his left paw on his sword's pommel while his right clenched and unclenched in anticipation of the battle ahead. Unlike his battle with the corsairs on the beach, this fight did not depend on his will to fight, but rather his decision to. It was his decision to lead the Guard in whichever choice he made and he was nervous as to which he would make.

Before them a small group of rebels broke from their line and started striding towards the Guard over the tall grasses of the field. Aesir held up his paw to signal the army to halt, taking a deep breath himself and stepping forward to meet them. On his right walked Klein and his standard bearer, on his left Loukin and Olan. With each step they drew closer to each other and with every stride Aesir could see more and more weapons they were armed with. Simple wooden javelins and hatchet axes were their primary arms, with a few rusted swords and one or two pikes. Despite the Nilhanders meagre weapons, they were visible proof of a battle to come and he could feel his blood quicken and excitement start to stir inside him. Tightening his grip on the hilt, Aesir struggled to control his urge to let his blood take control.

_Not yet,_ he reminded himself. _It's not battle yet. I have to keep a clear head._

They stopped when they reached the center of the plain, allowing for the opposing creatures to come to them. Aesir couldn't help but smile at the sight of them. They were all humbly clothed farmers. Not a stitch of armour or chainmail between them. But there was a fire in their eyes that told Aesir not to doubt their hearts. If pressed, these creatures would fight.

"Well, ain't this a sight t'see!" a strong set squirrel said taking a step ahead of his group. "The Royal Guard o' Eutrusia in full battle armour! Ain't seen the likes o' you in seasons!"

"We came here to ask you to see reason," Aesir countered in a loud voice and held his head high. "Put down this rebellion and return to your homes. Let us not shed blood needlessly."

"Needless bloodshed?" the squirrel laughed and slapped his calloused paw to his knee. "That's a good un."

"It will be needless," Aesir asserted, narrowing his eyes at the mock. "What will you all gain by dying today?"

"What make you think it's us dyin' t'day? Might be your noble hide that gets skewered."

"You dare talk to a…" Lieutenant Olan started in a growl, but Aesir held up his paw to silence him. The squirrel had no idea who he was and Aesir wanted to hear what he had to say before realizing he was addressing royalty.

"And you are willing to face the Royal Guard on the field?" Aesir asked pointedly. "You are willing to revolt against your king and country just to _skewer_ my hide?"

"We are willing t'fight for our voice!" the rebel replied. "Nilhand is never heard an' we are here t'make 'er shout!"

A cheer came up from the rebellion and Aesir saw his sidebeasts stretch up a little straighter while his standard bearer tightened his grip on the banner pole.

"I am here to hear them," Aesir stated holding his paws wide. "Speak squirrel and let us put aside these notions of war."

"What are you? An envoy?"

"Do I look like an envoy?"

"Naw, but we've 'ad enough o' talk from beasts who accuse us for something we've not done. The only creature I am interested in talkin' to be t'King himself!"

"I'm afraid you will have to deal with me," Aesir said strongly and a bold step forward in challenge. "I am Prince Aesir, Etifedd of Eutrusia and Captain of the Royal Guard."

The squirrel narrowed his eyes and for the first time noticed the coronet on Aesir's head. He didn't bow or take a step backward, but he did lower his eyes briefly. To Aesir's surprise, none of the Nilhanders showed him the respect due to his name. They all just stood their gaping at him like a prized wheat sheave. Seasons of protocol allowed him to hide his astonishment from his face, but Aesir's mind was reeling. Had Baron Falcor not instilled any importance of the crown in his creatures? Had they such little faith in his family that they had lost all sense of propriety and respect?

"Bow before royalty, traitor!" Lieutenant Klein bellowed and held out his battle axe at the squirrel. Aesir glanced quickly to right and waved the fiercely loyal mouse back.

"Well, now you know my name, Nilhander," Aesir stated, addressing the squirrel directly. "What is yours?"

"My name?" the rebel gaped for a moment at the question. Aesir raised his eyebrow at the response.

"Why, yes," Aesir smiled in spite of himself. "How do you suppose we are to talk if I do not know your name?"

"Nolkin."

"And you are the leader of this… gathering, Nolkin?" Aesir pressed.

"We have no leader."

"But you are the one every beast looks to."

"How do you know that?" Nolkin asked, thrown off by Aesir's easy manner.

"Just a guess," Aesir mused. "Now Nolkin, are you going to tell me what this is all about?"

"We are tired of being part of a land whose leaders do not see us as part of it," Nolkin said coldly. "Why should we be a part of Eutrusia if Eutrusia is not part of us?"

"We are all part of Eutrusia," Aesir countered strongly. "Every beast. We are all Eutrusians."

"Spoken like a true southerner," Nolkin sneered at him. "When was the last time any o' you royal beasts were up 'ere in the north? I bet you're t'first 'un in an age."

Aesir was quiet at that point. Nilhand was not a place they frequented. Aesir couldn't remember his own father going north; Wesrus, yes and Eurus occasionally, but never north.

"This is what this rebellion is about?" Aesir said shaking his head. "Representation?"

"Inclusion!" Nolkin countered. "If we're not t'be included in the kingdom then we'll make our own kingdom to live in!"

"And conspiring with corsairs will give you that?" Aesir snapped, momentarily losing calm countenance he was trying to maintain. "In the name of the King, you will stand down and…"

"I will not listen to any more talk and accusations," the squirrel voiced angrily, holding his paws aloft holding twin paw axes. "We have heard enough of talk and making the choice to back down. Today we choose to fight. Today we fight for our choice."

"Then fight as you may," Aesir breathed and let go of his anger. In his own mind he was admonishing himself for his outburst that prompted the fury in the rebel. "But no harm will come to you from my blade."

"Ha! Another royal beast hiding behind t'lines," Nolkin laughed. "And 'ere I thought you were supposed t'be the Captain o' the Guard as well as a royal brattling. The Captain o' the Guard is supposed t'lead the Guard in the charge."

"And I will," Aesir affirmed and squared his shoulders bravely.

"But you'll not draw your sword? You'll not use a weapon?" Nolkin asked, thoroughly confused by Aesir's statements.

"No."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because like you I have a choice!" Aesir yelled and barred his teeth. "You choose to fight for what you believe in, as do I. I believe that we are all Eutrusians and so all brothers. I choose not to draw the blood of family."

"Fool," the squirrel sneered while others behind him let their eyes go wide and they gave each other shifty glances.

"Perhaps I am," Aesir shrugged. "But I cannot draw the draw the blood of one of my fellow creatures. You have chosen action over words and I will meet you on the battlefield, but I will do so bare pawed with not but my shield for defense."

Nolkin just stared at the mouse before him. He couldn't tell if the mouse was being courageous or just plain simple. Only time would be able to tell. Giving the royal entourage a curt nod he backed away from them and quickly trotted back to the lines with this group to prepare them for battle.

"Captain, you are being over brave," Klein said sharply as they watched the rebels retreat. "Your Highness, you must use your sword in battle. We know you have gifts, but…"

"This has nothing to do with my gifts, Klein," Aesir said strongly and turning on his heel to go back to the Guard. "I cannot fight a Eutrusian. I cannot use a blade on any creature my family has been entrusted to keep safe."

"They do not recognize your family as such, Captain," Olan cried as Aesir strode away from them. "They will have your head on a pike by midday if you do not choose to fight."

Aesir ignored them and walked off to the formation of Royal Guards before him. His page came forward with his shield and helmet and Aesir removed his coronet to don the rest of his arms before placing the rose gold circlet into the groves on the helm. Flipping his visor up, the prince stood bravely in front of the fighters.

"The northerners have rejected a passive term," Aesir said loudly. "We will meet them on the field!"

A loud cheer rose from the Guard and they noisily thumped their weapons against their shields. Aesir held his paws up to silence them.

"I will lead you in the charge, my friends, but not in arms," Aesir stressed. "I will not draw my blade on my fellow Eutrusians."

The Guard looked on at the royal mouse briefly in confusion before glancing around at each other and their lieutenants' stone faces. What was their prince talking about?

"But, Your Highness," an old fighter piped up. "How are you to defend yourself?"

"I will use my shield," Aesir said bravely and held the rounded steel before him. "I will not kill my Eutrusian brothers."

To Aesir's surprise he was met with a loud cheer in response. He had not felt what he said was inspiring or warranted cheers. He had fully anticipated being called a coward.

It was Loukin who stepped forward first and gave Aesir a brisk salute before lowering his pike into the dirt. Pressing the point hard into the ground, the otter kicked down roughly on the shaft, breaking the tip off the long wood. Taking the now simple wood in his paws, he held the shaft as a staff pole, a weapon that could defend, but not meant to draw blood. Aesir smiled when the rest of the Guard followed the otter's lead and detipped their spears as well.

Aesir began walking down the line of Guard, each of them tapping their poles on his shield as he passed signifying their support. The war drums vibrations of anticipation into the sky while the Eutrusian horns called the Guard to courage. Jaws set and knuckles gripped white in the heavy air that hung above the army, each creature fighting the initial fear of the charge against their bravery as they stared across the plain before them at the hooting and hollering beasts.

"We stand here today my friends, the lesser of two evils," Aesir proclaimed in a loud voice over the call of battle. "We will match upon them as our bravery wills us to, but we will have the courage to not draw our arms. Protect yourself and stand proud for Eutrusia, but do not willingly kill your fellow creatures. They are not vermin. They are not evil. We need not send them to Hellsgates."

Aesir noticed several of the Guards stiffen and look over the young Captain's shoulder. Aesir turned to see Nolkin and his rebels starting to advance on them in a slow measured march. The prince could see red fringing his vision as the excitement of combat coursed through his body. Gritting his teeth, Aesir concentrated on not drawing his sword, but instead held his shield aloft as he gave a mighty yell before breaking off into a run across the plain.

"Eutrusia!"

* * *

The two sides fell against each other in a loud crash of metal and wood. Aesir used his shield to deflect the initial strikes from the weapons, breath catching in his throat until the ringing of steel and splintering wood ricocheting off his armour registered with him that he was uninjured. Giving a mole a great shove backwards off his shield, Aesir glanced at his flanks to see the Guard up beside him pushing forward with their shields and using their butts of their once-tipped spears to beat the rebels back.

Once, twice, the prince blocked a strike from a hatchet before whipping his shield across the snout of the assaulting otter to knock him unconscious. The rebels were untrained and uncalculated in their movements, making their attacks erratic and easily countered. Aesir fought strongly, desperately keeping his right paw busy by punching and grabbing at the Nilhanders to fight the urge to draw his sword. No matter how much red burned in his eyes, he would not allow himself to unsheathe his sword. He gave his word. He would not draw blood from a fellow Eutrusian.

Onward the guard pushed, pressing their advantage and driving the rebels onto their heels. Looking to his right, Aesir saw Loukin's wooden shaft break and the brave otter toss his shield aside to take both splintered pieces in both paws to use like clubs. He wasn't the only beast to hold his orders; many down the line were in a similar position as they stayed their paws from their arms. They were holding true, but for how long? The prince wondered how long it would be before they were either forced by the heat of battle or their own panic to pull their blade weapons from their holders and break ranks. He had to finish the battle quickly. He had find Nolkin.

Dipping under a sword swing, Aesir grasped the wielder on the paw, bending his wrist back with a sickening snap and roughly shoved him aside to see the burly squirrel urging his friends forward and whirling his twin hatchets above his head. Dealing a quick elbow to the mole on his left, Aesir swung away from the others and moved into position behind Nolkin as the squirrel moved on a pair of Guards. With great strength Aesir grabbed the collar of the squirrel's leather war vest and flung him backwards onto the ground. Instantly, the fighter bound to his feet and wheeled on the mouse, striking forward as he rained down a series of blows with his weapons. Aesir took the relentless blows on his shield before quickly diking to the side and shoving the squirrel roughly on the side to off balance him. As Nolkin righted his footing, Aesir kicked his knee back with his foot causing the squirrel to yell and lash out with his hatchet. Aesir jumped away, but not quick enough. The head cut through the steel of his greave and ran down the mouse's leg before Aesir roared in surprise and brought the edge of his shield down hard on the squirrel's paw.

Aesir limped back a couple of paces, letting Nolkin to his footpaws and allowing his body adjust to the feel of blood and weakness to leg. With the two leaders circling each other, the rest of the battle eased as the creatures waited to see the outcome.

Nolkin was the first to attack, desperately trying to get past Aesir's shield. The mouse held firm against the onslaught, waiting until Nolkin lessened his blows before giving the squirrel a mighty heave backwards. Twice the squirrel tried the same attack and both times Aesir was able to push him away.

"Fight me!" the squirrel raged, hitting Aesir squarely across the shield with his hatchet.

"I am fighting you!" Aesir growled back, gritting his teeth and taking all his strength to resist the urge to draw his sword. He was holding on to his wrath by the barest thread, every fibre of his body screaming to pull the blade from its sheath and kill the beast in front of him. Each breath he took he tried to calm himself, but which every passing moment it was becoming more difficult. The prince's breathing was erratic, pant-like as he battled within himself, grasping the straps of his shield tighter and balling his right paw into such a tight fist he believe he would dent his gauntlets.

"Pick up your weapon!"

"I will not!" Aesir countered and pulled his helmet off his head so he could be heard more clearly. "Nolkin, can't you see you are fighting nothing but yourselves?"

"I am fighting for justice!" he snarled back and leapt at Aesir, raining his arms down on the batter shield.

"You said it was for inclusion!" Aesir grunted, pushing the squirrel backwards again. Both beasts took a moment to catch their breath, eyeing each other warily. "Nolkin, what are you fighting for?"

"You care nothing for the north," the squirrel rallied. "You expect us to abide your rules and yet you 'ave never seen our boarders…"

"I have Nolkin," Aesir stated, stretching up. "I am here now… What are you fighting for, my friend?"

"You are not my friend!" Nolkin snarled and charged at Aesir again. "I am not a friend of a murdering house!"

Aesir waited until the squirrel was upon him before dropping to his knee and flipping Nolkin over top of him with a swift sweep of his shield. Turning quickly on his opponent, Aesir struggled inwardly to not advance on him. Taking deep breaths he swayed on his footpaws fighting the urge to finish him off. He could tell Nolkin was a weaker fighter. He could end it quickly if he would just let his paw draw his sword. Instead, Aesir forced himself to focus on the words of the squirrel.

"I am not of a murdering house!" Aesir replied angrily.

"You instructed your envoy to murder innocent creatures!" Nolkin yelled, a tear coming to his eye.

"Envoys are peacemakers," Aesir retorted. "They do not murder any beast. They have no authority to…"

"You lie!"

"I may be many things, Nolkin," Aesir said coldly, narrowing his eyes at the insult. "But I am _not_ a liar."

"The first envoy that was sent killed creatures!" Nolkin shouted. "Accused us of things we didn't do!"

"He had no authority to and would not have had any instruction to do so!" Aesir gasped shaking now in his efforts to remain level headed. "Nolkin, call off your creatures. Let us talk about this."

"There are never any that will listen," Nolkin whispered. "We are never 'eard…"

"Call them off Nolkin and I will listen to you," Aesir said as calmly as his body would allow and holding his paws wide.

"You will make us drop our guard just as the first envoy did, then you will slaughter innocent creatures to prove your strength- just as you are now!"

"If I wanted to slaughter you Nolkin, we would have done so already. Can't you see we are here for peace? You raised Nilhand in rebellion against the king- that is treason. You should be put to the sword…"

"So you are 'ere to murder!"

Aesir took a large breath to try and calm himself. "I am here for justice and that means finding out what caused you to rise against your king and country. I will have that justice seen to first before I pass judgement on what is to be done with the rebellion."

"You will just kill us once our guard is down," the squirrel reiterated. "Just like before. It is just like before…"

"No, it's not," Aesir affirmed. "I will listen, Nolkin. I will hear you out. I am here to carry out the king's justice, but that cannot be done unless I know all the facts of the story. Your side must be heard."

Nolkin just shook his head and took a step backwards. "Murder is not justice."

"That is why you killed the second envoy wasn't it?" Aesir questioned, letting the pieces fall into place. "You took your revenge."

"He killed my daughter," Nolkin said painfully. "Ran her through as he left. She was just coming in out of the rain…"

Aesir growled lowly. Why had his father not told him? Why wasn't he told all of the details? Did his father not trust his judgement enough to tell him all the information? Or was he, just as he grandsire had been before him, just a weapon; an extension of the king's arm to do his bidding without being placed in harm's way.

"What was the envoy's name, Nolkin," Aesir said dangerously. "What was the beast's name and I will make sure justice is served to him."

"Ulrick," the squirrel breathed heavily. "A mouse named Ulrick."

Aesir's eyes narrowed. Ulrick was the son of Baron Ulran of Eurus. How could he be an envoy- he had not been to the palace to take orders from his father? But Ulran had. He had been there when Aesir and Cerys had run into the corsairs for the State Feast. He was discussing a betrothal between Ulrick and Cerys.

"I am not a liar, murderer or envoy, Nolkin," Aesir stated plainly in a loud voice that all creatures could hear. "I am but a simple mouse, born to a royal family. Put aside these notions of rebellion and let us work towards a solution. Let me put my name to good use and right the wrongs that have been done. Together we can make Eutrusia strong again."

The squirrel looked blankly at the mouse, unsure of how to take him.

"Your Highness…" Nolkin started, using Aesir's formal title for the first time, but was cut short when Klein's voice yelled over the plain.

"Captain, the river!" Klein shouted as tall gray ships slipped silently towards them. Aesir barred his teeth and narrowed his red eyes. The ships from the sea. They must have continued north and entered the River Eu by the inlet.

"Corsairs!" Nolkin shouted. "They're after the jewels again!"

"Again?" Aesir pressed urgently giving the squirrel a hard glance. "You've conspired with them!"

"No!" Nolkin snapped. "Like I told your first envoy- we 'aven't treated with no corsairs. They stole gems from us once already, and now they're back for more!"

"Stole?"

"Yes," the squirrel divulged quickly. "We had 'em all packed up in the Nilhander chests to take to Ashbryar Castle for safe keeping when a pair o' corsairs snatched a small trunk. We've been waiting for them to come back for more."

"Which is why you had all the major inlets of to the north guarded," Aesir muttered, mentally berating himself against the obvious actions of the northerners. "And you were taking the chests to the baronial castle."

"For safe keeping until Baron Falcor came back," Nolkin said quickly.

Aesir took a deep breath and shook his head at the information. He had so many questions, but now was not the time to get answers. Words were lost when action was called for.

"We need to 'ide t'jewels," Nolkin roared at his northerners.

"No!" Aesir shouted, seizing control of the situation. "We need to stop them. We need to fight them. Any other way and they will only just come back."

Nolkin nodded and stepped back assuming Aesir's command.

"Olan, take the archers and set up a blind in the trees," the prince directed. "Cam- take the strongest beasts you can find with some poles and wedge those rocks into the river. We need to make it too shallow for them to pass."

"What if they're flat bottoms?" Cam asked quickly picking out his comrades from amongst the guard and Nilhanders.

"They were at sea," Aesir pointed out. "They'll have a reasonable keel."

The mouse nodded and ran to do his Captain's bidding.

"The rest of you, come with me," Aesir grinned, feeling the blood starting to pump through his veins again. "Eutrusians, draw your weapons! _Ymlaen!_"

* * *

"Cap'n Talt! Cap'n Talt!" Harsk called from the stem and pointed forward to the right. "There be trouble up ahead!"

The searat captain spun on his heel to view a force charging towards the riverbed.

"Hellsgates!" he swore and took a last swig of grog before throwing it at the wheelbeast. "Tat t'Royal Guard!"

"I thoughts we gonna beat 'em here," Clawfang stuttered out.

"Well it don't look like we did, do it?" Talt grumbled out. "All paws t'deck!" he shouted about the ship. "All paws t'arms 'n git ready for o' fight!"

"Cap'n ahead!" Harsk called again, this time pointing to a large tower of rocks where creatures were poling boulders into the river in great splashes.

"Curse t'Fates!" Talt hissed and slashed the railing hard with his sabre. "Stop t'ose beasts afore t'ey run us a-ground. All o' ya- go!"

The corsairs didn't need much encouragement. At the sight of the Guard running at them they sprang into action, pulling their weapons out of their holders and leaping over the railings into the shallows.

"Form the line!" Aesir instructed in a loud voice, keeping one eye on the corsairs as they wadded in the shallows towards the bank. Striding boldly in front of the fighters, the prince drew his sword and whirled it aloft to inspire confidence. "Take courage, friends. Our bravery will not let us fail!"

Once the corsairs bound over the muddy apex of the river, Aesir let out a loud battle cry and led the Eutrusians forward, charging recklessly towards the water and crashing into the vermin. Swinging his sword wildly, Aesir fought through the onslaught; slicing, stabbing, twisting his blade out of one vermin's body before pressing it into another. Strikes rained down on his shield and weapons battered his armour, but he couldn't feel it. All he could feel was the burning in his eyes and the strength in his paws. Forward he fought, always stepping forward, never backward.

Beside him, the Eutrusians fought bravely, each pressing ahead in attempt to keep up to the prince fighting boldly before them, cutting down beasts to lie at his footpaws.

Within moments, they heard a loud _crack_ and the lead ship splintered to a halt against the rocks. Behind the vessel, the second ship pushed into it from behind, making its own crunching halt and shift to the side of it lead. Cries from the vessels were a mix of anger and screams as Olan's arrows rained down onto the deck, halting the evacuating vermin off the port bow. The few that did get away were quickly dealt with by the Eutrusians on the ground as they tried to escape into the melee of battle off the starboard side.

"Reform the line!" Aesir roared, jumping upon the large rock and whirling his long sword as the corsairs started emerging in larger numbers. "Eutrusia! Reform the line!"

They pulled back, giving themselves a few moments breath and waited for Aesir's next signal. Klein looked up at the young prince on the tall rock. His eyes burned red against his stern expression. His red cloak whipped in the breeze and his amour and sword were covered in red blood. He really was what they called him. He really was the Red Prince.

"Captain!" Loukin shouted below. "Let's charge them- let's end this."

"No!" Aesir snarled, his hackles raised and teeth barred. "He hasn't come out yet."

"Who?" Nolkin called in confusion.

"Their Captain," Aesir grinned and pointed his sword to where a large rat dropped to waters, rallying his vermin to his side in an attempt to organize them in a resistance.

Aesir laughed and jumped effortless from the rock and landed lightly on his footpaws. Looking back at the Eutrusians he chuckled menacingly. "Shall we see how he negotiates?

"Hold the line until my signal!" Aesir commanded and walked straight at the advancing corsairs. "Follow!"

"Ya wrecked me ship ya gitchy lil' whelp!" the rat snapped at Aesir as the brave mouse strode up to him. "All me ships. Ya best be running or makin' ya peace with ta Forest…"

"Scum!" Aesir yelled and leaned casually on his sword. "Do you have any idea who you are talking to?"

"A mouse wit a death wish!" the rat hissed and pointed his cutlass at the prince while holding a flail to the side in his left paw. "Now, come 'ere 'n let Captain Talt teach ya o'lesson not ta mess wit his ships!"

"Ha!" Aesir laughed. "You maybe rethinking that statement when you are at Hellsgates, rat!"

With a great roar the rat swung the flail at Aesir. The mouse had just enough time to duck under the protection of his shield when the spiked ball made contact with the steel. Two, three, four times the rat sent blows to the mouse's shield, sending Aesir backwards. Just as Talt felt he had the advantage, Aesir spun away from the contact and caught the rat across the back of the legs with his blade. Howling in pain, the vermin swung his cutlass, catching Aesir's shield on its edge and ripping it from the mouse's grasp.

Snarling, Aesir took up a ready stance and held his blade in both paws before him.

"Come on, rat!" he challenged. "Is that the best you can do?"

"Charge- ya filthy seadogs!" Talt yelled and limped a step over to counter his injury. "Charge 'em- leave none o'live!"

Aesir sprung forward into the charge, calling his Eutrusians forward, swinging his sword from left to right to strike corsairs down around him. Leaping over a dead stoat, Aesir landed in the shallows were Talt was trying to make an escape.

"A captain that leaves his crew to die," Aesir snorted and glared his red eyes at the rat. "Cowardly, but what can you expect from vermin."

"I not be a coward," Talt laughed and shook his head. "But y'are a fool."

"Says the walking dead beast," Aesir glowered.

"I ra'her be dead than deal wit t'ratlord," Talt sneered. "Ya not know t'war ya just started."

"Enough excuses, scum," Aesir jeered. "Your threats are as empty as your attacks, as weak as your paws. My own nursemaid could have wielded a weapon better than you!"

The flail whipped diagonally towards Aesir. The prince blocked it with his sword and let the chain from the ball wrap around the blade.

"Whatcha gonna do now, mouse?" the rat sneered at his opponent, dropping his cutlass to grip the handle with both paws.

"This," Aesir laughed and moved his paws to the hilt of his sword. Hauling the rat back towards him, Aesir then pushed forward, thrusting the long blade through the rat's chest. The corsair gave a painful shout and snarled against his hurt causing the beasts closest to them to turn towards the two. Aesir curled his lip in disgust and gave his blade a twist, cutting closer to the rat's heart. Talt gasped for a brief moment on his footpaws before falling forward onto Aesir and pinning the mouse beneath him in the shallows. Panic flowed through the corsairs, while Loukin and Klein jumped forward to kick the dead rat's body off the prince and pull Aesir to his footpaws. Shaking the chain loose from his blade with a quick of his wrist, Aesir looked about the remaining corsairs.

"Any others fancy a trip to Hellsgates?" Aesir yelled dangerously. Laughing at the silence Aesir took a step towards them and watched them break into a run away from battlefield.

"Let them go!" Aesir ordered as he saw a handful of beasts take up the chase.

"Your Highness, they'll tell others o' the jewels," Nolkin hissed. "We must end this."

"Others already know of the jewels, Nolkin," Aesir growled at him. "Let the vermin spread the word of our resistance. Let them spread the word for others to fear coming back here."

"Victory!" They could hear Olan shouting down from the trees. "Victory for Eutrusia!"

"Victory for Eutrusia!" Klein picked up. "Victory for the Red Prince!"

Aesir turned his attention back to the Eutrusians cheering behind him. Taking deep breaths he felt his bloodwrath leaving him now the enemy was gone and felt pride as they all took up the victory cry.

"The Red Prince! The Red Prince of Eutrusia!"


	13. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"Hold, Your Grace!" the fighter yelled as his sword was knocked from his paw by the lord's mace and sent flying across the training ground in the back courtyard of Lysium's baronial castle. The young squirrel ducked beneath another swing before pulling his shield up to protect himself against the relentless strikes. "Hold, hold! My Lord Ulrick- _hold!"_

The noble mouse pommeled the rounded steel one last time with his mace to force the creature onto his knee before taking a step back. A smudge smile curled on his lips as he sneered at the beast gasping for breath before him. Thinking the spar was done, the squirrel lowered his shield to rise when Ulrick swung his mace overhead, stepping forward and bringing the shaft down hard at the base of the soldier's neck. Gasps sounded from the onlookers and servants busying themselves about their duties. Several of the personal guards assigned to the protection of the castle took a step forward to intervene, but were halted by Ulrick's words.

"Do not interfere!" he ordered and snarled at the victim's yell. "Never drop your guard! Who are to think this is through- that we are done? I am never done until the opposition ceases to breathe!"

Raising his mace again to take aim at the squirrel's head, Ulrick was stilled by a loud shout from the sidelines. "Enough!"

The fighter fell backwards and held his arm above him as if to shield himself against the mouse still posed for a strike. _"Ulrick- yield!"_ the voice thundered again.

At the mouse turned and lowered his weapon, letting the iron head thump into the earth to create a cloud of dust in exchange for an explosion of blood. Ulrick kicked the cringing beast's shield to him. "Go and take this to your sister. She can probably wield it better than you."

"Tommin doesn't have a sister, my lord," an otter guard grumbled as he helped the squirrel to his footpaws. "'N he's just a squire…"

"Are you questioning me?"

"Banel is educating you." The voice spoke again, closer this time and Ulrick stepped to the side to see his father and stepmother standing ten paces behind him. At Ulrick's silence, Baron Ulran raised an eyebrow. "Taken to fighting fledgling squires now, son?"

"You have all the true soldiers at the borders," Ulrick argued. "Who else am I to spar with?"

"Sparring involves instruction; _beating_ involves senseless displays of power."

"Power is never senseless if it be a demonstration of might," the lord countered while the two common beasts took their leave, allowing the three nobles room for private conversation. "Grandfather Neron taught me that."

Ulran just closed his eyes and sighed deeply, gathering his strength to deal with his troublesome son.

"Ulrick, the squire cried for you to hold," Dellia retorted sharply. "It is up to you as a _lord_, a _noble_ of the realm and your father's_ heir_ to uphold the rules of engagement."

"My apologies, Baroness," Ulrick snorted and gave her a bow. "I was unaware you were so experienced with sparring."

"I am quite the champion as it were," the baroness replied before Ulran could silence his son. "All ladies of birth are; except in our spars we use words to silence our opponents, not sticks with hammers strapped to the ends."

"Apologies, my lady, but I know quite a few ladies who are silenced by a stick."

"Ulrick that is enough!" Ulran hissed as Dellia stiffened beside him. "You will apologize to your mot-"

"She is not my mother," Ulrick interrupted with cold eyes. "But I do offer my apologies, Baroness Dellia. I spoke out of turn and was disrespectful. I fear the heat of battle is still in my veins which has quickened my tongue." With that he gave a low bow, before turning on his heel to stride back towards the corridor leading to the castle.

"And he is to be the husband of my gentle niece?" Dellia observed and raised an eyebrow. "Ulran, how do you and my brother think Cerys will not be crushed by him?"

"You and I will be here to make sure that doesn't happen," Ulran affirmed. "And I will talk to him."

"Then do so soon," Dellia ordered and signalled for the baron to follow his son. Waving a pawmaid forward to help her, the baroness let go of her husband's arm to take four shaky steps to the servant's outstretched paw. "Try to knock some sense into him before the evening meal would you?"

Ulran gave a frustrated snort and watched his wife cautiously as she made her way out of the courtyard and into the fallow-coloured castle. The breeze blew the sheer veil behind her from its place on her wimple, drawing the baron's attention to the headdress. The sight of the soft mauve cloth sent a pain right through him and he inwardly growled at the need for it; Dellia had started to lose her headfur and rather than watch it continue to fall out in clumps, she made the brave decision to have her pawmaids cut it off. She always did the proper thing, always held her head high with pride and never yet any beast cast a shadow on the state of Eurus they together had strove to restore to honour. Ulran would not let his son undo the ties they had mended for deception of his own father's lies and spiteful mutterings. He would bring Ulrick to right; he had to.

* * *

The baron found his son in the castle archives. Though not nearly as large or grand as Vasilis' library was, Lysium held an impressive collection of works centering mostly on the tales of the many mice to hold the baronage. As his father drew nearer, Ulrick looked up from the parchment he was studying on the angled desk and awaited what Ulran had to say.

"Ulrick, we need to talk," Ulran started sternly. "Your attitude as of late is beyond excuse." His son snorted and rolled his eyes, turning his attention once more to the page before him. "Your display of aggression in the courtyard, your tone with Dellia… Ulrick, what has gotten into you?"

"Father, do you know our forefathers were some of the sailors who came across the sea from the mainland?" Ulrick voiced as if Ulran had not spoken at all. "Our family's genealogy can be traced just as far as the royal line."

"Yes," Ulran muttered. "Ulrick, I…"

"And look- not one single mar against it," the young lord continued. "All nobles. Every generation bred from titled stock…"

"What is your point?"

"My point is how in the name of the Seasons did my aunt not become queen?"

Ulran slapped his son's goblet of wine off the table. "Ulrick, you listen and you listen well," the baron said coldly, danger dripping from his words as countless seasons of hatred for his father and sister bubbled to the surface. "What happened in the past, happened in the past; you cannot rewrite history, you cannot turn back time. Yes, your Aunt Ulyssa may have been Queen of Eutrusia, but that was not the will of the Seasons. _Queen Valina _sits beside the king and no better consort has the kingdom ever held. Stop dwelling in the mists of forgotten memories and lies told to you at your bedside and focus on your future."

"Grandfather was shamed!" Ulrick snapped. "King Matteus picked a _commoner_ over his highborn daughter!"

"The prophets foretold the need for it! Any fool of a beast knows that."

"And Aunt Ulyssa was forced to marry a simple syr while a snippet took her place on the throne."

"Your aunt had to marry a simple syr because my father was a fool to rebel against the king!" Ulran shouted and slammed his fist onto the top of the table. "And on top of that, it's hard to acquire a suitable match for a traitor's daughter once the rumours get out about her loose legs."

"Grandfather was not a traitor-"

"Give your ears a shake, lad," Ulran scoffed and skewed his face against the folly. "He paid those country syrs in solid gold bars and precious gems. They were old, tired, their days done- what more could they give their families then bountiful wealth by their death?"

"Still, our family line deserves better," Ulrick asserted and mumbled under his breath, "it will have better."

"Son, our line has better," the baron replied. "We are the ruling house of the greatest state in Eutrusia. Our wealth and power are only outmatched by the royal family itself. A royal family we are part of. I am married to the king's sister-"

"Barren sister."

"The king's sister," Ulran restated and tapped the lineage lines on the parchment still unrolled before his son. "A princess in her own right; and you are also going to marry a princess. Princess Cerys will be your wife in two seasons and you will have a direct tie to the future king, Prince Aesir Etifedd." He paused a moment hoping his words would soak through his son's thick skull and cotton stuffed ears. "That, son, is as good and as close to a royal line as any creature is going to get."

"But the princess is not of royal blood," Ulrick pointed out.

"She is still considered to be part of the family."

"The maid's family the prince takes for wife will have a closer bond. They will receive more favours…"

"Good 'Gates, son!" Ulran exclaimed, exasperation evident in his voice. "What more do you want? You have _everything_ before you but a crown!"

"Exactly." That single word made Ulran's heart skip a beat and his blood chill to an unearthly temperature.

"No," the baron said. "Ulrick- stop this talk. Stop it now and don't _ever_ speak of it again."

"The king and queen are getting older," Ulran pressed, stepping around the table slowly. "The queen may be passed her carrying days even if they wanted to make another princeling."

"They don't need another princeling. They have the kingdom's Etifedd."

"That is if he comes back from the north alive."

Ulran just shook his head. He couldn't believe the words leaking out from behind his son's teeth. Words brought forth like from the tip of a snake's tongue, flicking off the fork and into the air of possibilities. Words he heard whispered and muttered in the darkness of the forests to creatures hidden by their cloaks before he had turned from his own father and marched his personal guards southwest to the capital to join forces with the Royal Guard.

"You created this problem in Nilhand didn't you? You pushed those creatures into open rebellion knowingly putting the prince's life in danger!"

"We belong on the throne," Ulrick hissed and came to stand before the baron. "It is our family's right."

"We have the right to nothing."

"You are blind to the opportunities that await us. That will await us."

"Ulrick, why-" Ulran started, shaking his head before looking into his son's eyes. "Why are you acting this way- how are you so certain of this?"

"It has all been decided, Father," Ulrick smiled with an air of confidence so sure it caused Ulran to shudder.

"What do you mean, it's decided? Decided by whom?"

"The creature Aunt Ulyssa found," Ulrick said, his words slithering amongst the air. "The black creature from the beach."

"Why have I not heard of this and who is this beast?" Ulran rallied. He did not like the tone of Ulrick's voice or the smirk that curled the very furthest corners of his lips.

The mouse gave a sly smile before raising his eyes in mock-thought as though he had to truly remember the occurrence. "It was just before you ordered me north, Father," the lord phrased. "There had been a great storm at sea and my lady aunt was walking on the shore with some guards. They came upon a rather peculiar vessel – a black galley with green sails. It had been wrecked in the gale.

"Oh, they thought none were alive of course," Ulrick snickered. "And just as well seeing as it was a ship of vermin."

"But we did find one still alive amongst the rubble," a haughty female voice proclaimed from behind the shelves. "He was barely alive, but I do not think such a creature can know death."

"How long have you been here, Ulyssa?" Ulran demanded as his sister slipped around the corner of the woodwork. She wore an elaborate dress of black and violet brocade trimmed with silver and strings of amethysts were weaved into her nearly white headfur. She glided towards her nephew and stood at his side, her smile every bit as poisonous as his.

"Long enough to hear where your loyalties truly lie, brother," she laughed. "But then, I knew that the day you marched against our cause."

"I should kill you," Ulran growled and put his paw on the hilt of his sword. "I should kill you for twisting my son the way you have."

"I have done nothing but tell him the truth!"

"The truth!" Ulran laughed. "The truth of an old harpy? Come now, Ulyssa. All the seasons of swallowing worm fern and juniper concoctions have addled your brain."

The lady cackled. "There is nothing you can say that will offend me brother. Father's aspirations of the crown will come to reality and though I will never sit my tail upon the throne of Eutrusia, Ulrick will. And after you are dead, my Penlar will inherit the baronage."

The baron wheeled on his son. Ulrick shrugged. "Such are the costs for marrying a barren maid for love. I hope you are happy, Father. Nay, you should be for I will be king on my own. I daresay that is a shade higher than the affiliation you proposed me to be satisfied with."

"You have no… this creature of yours must be a mad beast."

"It's a seer," Ulyssa smiled slyly. "Not mad."

"And you think it sees something the prophets will not?" Ulran snarled, his hackles rising with the tightening grip on his hilt. "The prophets…"

"… Are blind to the path of the prince," Ulrick stated. "They do not know his fate. This beast does."

There was a silence that fell upon the room. The air heavy with tension; pressing down on the three mice as they stared at each other, assessing, waiting. Ulran's thoughts spun through his mind. His own son was conspiring against the crown, his friend, his brother by marriage. He had fallen into the same spire of hatred his father and sister had followed; one that could only lead downward. This was treason. Both of them guilty of treason.

"I could snap my claws and watch you die for this," Ulran glowered, his eyes shifting between the two of them.

"Oh, a situation you have been most anxious to view," Ulyssa giggled like a maid at her first spring feast. "I trust you will declare a toast with my final breath." She paused for a moment and looked Ulrick up and down. "But could you condemn him, your own son, to the axe beast? Could you watch Ulrick kneel his head over the block and see his head slip off his neck- that same head you kissed when he was a babe and swore to protect forever? Cradle his lifeless body the same way you used to carry him around Lysium with you while you were home? Could you live never hearing his voice again? Never seeing his face, his smile, or his eyes?

"You will never have that feeling again, you know," Ulyssa continued as she watched her brother's face twitch at the declarations. "The pride a father feels for their son when he holds him for the first time or witnesses his first steps, his first words. And you will live the rest of your seasons knowing you so much as swung the edge yourself for it will be by your confession the king knows any of this at all."

"What did you two find?" Ulran gasped out. His voice was hoarse with emotion and his heart was pulling apart between honour and family. "What is this creature?"

"A creature of the Fates," Ulyssa whispered and looked over her shoulder to the shelf where she came from. There was a shuffle and the soft sounds of fabric brushing over the floorboards. "A beast who knows how to see its way through the mists."

Ulran turned his attention to the wooden structure and his eyes widened. Reacting with the seasons of his military training, the baron pushed his sister and son behind him as he drew his sword; his bravery commanding his actions, his senses dull to the ringing laughter behind him and focused only on the shadow before him.

* * *

"We found a series o' old mines in the mountains not far from 'ere outside the village o' Aramore," Nolkin explained the day following the battle in Aesir's pavilion where he slouched forward in a chair five paces off where the royal mouse sat at his table. The prince was sitting straight in his seat, his paws resting on the armrests and his body pressed up against the high cushioned back of the chair. Before him on the table a piece of parchment sat along with a quill, ink, candle and bolt of red wax.

The squirrel tried not to focus on the paper that would seal his fate, but instead focused his sight on the regal beast before him, shifting his eyes every so often to the faces of prince's lieutenants as they each stood aside their sovereign. Their expressions were unreadable as they listened, much like the prince's. It was unnerving and yet gave the Nilhander hope; Prince Aesir did not sign his warrant of execution yet- the mouse had said he would hear his side of the story and he was. He was true to his word and not rash.

"They not been used for some time for not e'en the elders recall there ever being mines in the north, but they are beamed and posted. They must 'ave been active at some point," Nolkin continued. "We went in 'em first cuz we thought they might be adder holes. We couldn't 'ave snakes that close to t'village, but when we got inside…" The squirrel paused for a moment before continuing. "There be gems e'ery where around us 'n the very ceiling shimmered like stars."

Aesir just sat in silence and let the squirrel talk, taking in every word and tone of his voice, alert to anything that hinted a lie. In his own mind he was struggling to maintain a sombre composure. In all of his studies or lessons, never had a tutor once posed this circumstance of how to sentence a creature to death that only reacted to crimes first done to him. The prince felt nervous and ill-prepared to handle the situation, but knew it was up to him to name this creature a traitor and order his death. Inwardly, his mind battled his heart, screaming at him to sign the parchment and be done with it, that Nolkin be put to the sword, his head be hoisted on a pike for every beast in the north to see what happens to beasts that rebel against the royal family. Yet, he heart told him to wait; deep within the pit of his stomach, inkling urged the prince not to act in haste; that these random pieces may fit into a larger puzzle once the rest of the chips fell on the table.

On the squirrel described the mines in detail and Aesir would nod every so often to show he had not turned to stone, but he was not fully listening. Gripping the wooden arms tighter, the prince resisted the urge to shift in his chair or utter a groan of discomfort; his muscles were sore, his injuries burned and almost every joint where his plates sat were rubbed raw from his armour. He would not show any weakness in the sight of this squirrel, or any beast for that matter.

As the narration wore on, Aesir began twirling his signet ring around the index finger of his right paw, silently urging the Nilhander to hurry with his explanations and remind him his life was still hanging in the balance. Nolkin's words stumbled slightly under Aesir's movement as he hurried his speech and began to repeat his phrases from his nerves.

"Yes, you have told us of the location, Nolkin," Aesir spoke up, interrupting the reiteration. Leaning forward in his chair, the prince let his left paw strum its claws across the table in visible agitation, then pull them into a fist to rap the table with his knuckles once to emphasis the silence.

"Er, well, it's jus' that's what you asked, Highness," Nolkin replied, keeping a firm expression. "I answered you 'ere t'mines were."

"Yes and now we must discuss this rebellion of yours," Aesir stated and placed his claw on the parchment to slide it forward an inch. "And its consequences."

The northerner gulped and for a brief moment showed fear in his eyes before banishing it behind a wall of courage. "Why should I tell you anyt'ing, if you jus' gonna kill me?" he challenged.

"I haven't once said that," Aesir retorted and leaned back in his chair again. "I said we were here to discuss it."

"You 'ave t'paper all marked up."

"But I haven't signed it."

"I not be knowing that," Nolkin scoffed and tipped forward himself to look at the scribed document. "I can't read."

"I can assure you it does not bear my signature," Aesir affirmed. "And without it, this warrant means nothing."

"But there's scribbles all o'er t'page," Nolkin argued. "How do I know you ain't lying?"

Aesir was silent and gave the squirrel a smirk before rising from his chair to walk around the table. "I fear much to my father's annoyance, I was never neat with my ink," the prince began with a grin. "He could write a tome without a single stain on his fur, yet I could make two letters and my paws are covered in it. My tutors used to tell me I wasted ink in my haste- that I never learnt to wait that extra few moments for the excess to drip off the quill before putting the tip to paper."

Nolkin moved uncomfortably on his chair when Aesir stood before him and held his palms out. "Now, do you see any ink?"

"Er, no. But that doesn't mean you didna wash 'em afterwards."

The prince rolled his right paw into a fist and held his knuckles straight ahead to display his crest ring. "Do you see any bits of red wax on that?"

"No, it be jus' gold."

"Then I haven't set my seal to it," Aesir reassured the squirrel. "An execution warrant requires both a signature and a seal, as does any royal decree. Remember that for the next time any beast comes to you declaring they are on the crown's business. They will have an order, signed and sealed, as well as a banner beast amongst their retinue. If you question their motives, ask to see the order."

"But I can't read, Highness."

"You do not need to," Aesir instructed. "If the parchment is signed in red ink, then it is an order from either the king or myself. And if it bears the seal of Eutrusia, the Scroll and Sword, then it is official and you may trust the bearer of the missive. If they are on a royal mission, they are charged by the Seasons to tell the truth and uphold the honour of king and kingdom."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"So, back to our discussion," Aesir said and stepped back to lean against the table. Crossing his paws over his chest, the prince asked, "Why are Nilhanders opposing Baron Falcor's residency in his own state? He is the appointed overlord of the northern state of Eutrusia and he should be respected."

"Beggin' pardon, Your Highness, but it's hard to respect somethin' that ain't there," Nolkin said cautiously. "We 'aven't seen Baron Falcor for, er, three seasons or so."

"Really," Aesir mused, glancing towards his personal scribe standing silently off to the side taking notes of the conversation to ensure he was writing that point down. Inwardly, he was growling. The north was falling to pieces under their very noses and they knew nothing about it. "Why do you think he hasn't held his seat at Ashbryar?"

"Not sure, Highness," Nolkin replied earnestly. "But Ashbryar is leagues from here down the Eu. Maybe something happened there I don't know about. I am jus' a lumberer. I not a noble beast."

"Hmm," Aesir moaned and rubbed his paw over his face. "But you said on the field you were sending the chests of jewels to Ashbryar. What did you find when you took them there?"

"Ne'er made it tha far," the squirrel sighed. "Once t'corsairs stole the chest, we hid t'rest of 'em. Didn't want t'take the chance o' losing t'rest."

"So, why didn't you tell Lord Ulrick about the jewels," Aesir pressed and walked around the table to his chair again. Settling in his seat, the prince leaned forward on the table again. "He proclaimed himself the king's envoy, did he not?"

"Yes. That be about t'only thing he did do right."

"And you didn't feel the need to disclose this information to the envoy? You didn't tell him about the mines or the theft?"

"Now, Your Highness, would you be telling a random creature where your treasure was hid simply because he said he be some beast important?" Nolkin asked with a good deal of confidence. "He came up 'ere tooting he was some lordy mouse from Eurus an' King Matthias sent 'im up 'ere for us t'confess we be dealing with corsairs! Corsairs, I tells ya! Said they found a Nilhand chest full o' jewels in t'south. Said seacum be after it an' that it be our fault- that we be in workin' t'gether with them.

"I tried t'tell him it be stolen an' then he insisted on where from," he continued, his accent getting thicker as the squirrel became more worked up. "Said if we didna take 'im t'where the gems came from he be tellin' t'king we be workin' against him. Against him, I said- yous Aurelians gots your shipment o' lumber didna ya? If we were workin' against t'king, d'ya not think we be keeping the logs for ourselves t'build a fleet o' our own?

"I wasn't going t'tell that mouse nothing," Nolkin practically spat the words out. "Never trust an Easterner- that be what my pop used t'say. They be in it for gold an' that be all. So I kept me mouth shut. Didna agree or deny nothing. That Lord Ultrick, er whatever he called 'imself, threw a right fit. Got all red inna face and puffed out like a blowfish, he did. Said we were all traitors. Said we were northern bumpkin scum not knowing nothing an' we'd hang for our treason. Said we messed with the wrong mouse.

"And as he left, me dear daughter Mollie came in outta t'rain, all a-smiling an' happy," Nolkin recalled bitterly. "Guess she got in 'is way or something, cuz he just drew his blade 'n ran 'er threw like she be made o' butter."

He paused for a moment and clenched his paws in anger, taking deep breaths to control himself before continuing. "He said she be the first o' the traitors t'die. Said this be the strength o' the crown an' how this be the way t'crown deals with traitors. I tolds him t'get off Nilhand land if he wanted t'see another sunrise. I tolds him t'take his country's crown an' shove it up his arse if this be t'way they deal with things- I said this is not a kingdom worth bein' part o' if it means no beast 'as faith in one another an' lords can go about killin' as t'ey please."

"But you didn't alert any creature," Aesir said plainly. "A strange lord not of your state comes to you asking about information you thought a secret, slays a female in cold blood, and names you traitors- and yet you do nothing?"

"Who 'ere we suppose t'tell?" Nolkin retorted. "Baron Falcor not be at Ashbryar an' none of us not know any in the south. Who were we to go to?"

"Syr Kempton of Sindale Keep is only two leagues away from here," Lieutenant Klein put in. "Surely, you could have gone to him."

"Syr Kempton was at the State Feast," Aesir sighed and rose from his chair to pace the area. "He stayed for a longer duration visiting some old friends. In fact, he was still there when we left."

Every beast was silent for a moment to ponder the situation and formulate their own thoughts into quiet opinions.

"So, what of Syr Ettore?" Aesir voiced and flicked his wrist in his impatience for the conversation to continue. "Why did you feel the need to _kill_ my father's second envoy? Certainly, you could see the king was vying for peace?"

"Didn't give him the chance," Nolkin relented. "Saw t'banners an'… well, you know t'rest else you not be up here."

"But I don't know _why_ it happened," Aesir pressed. "The messenger you let get away said they had just docked the barge and were jumped upon by Nilhanders. Deacon recalled Ettore announcing he was there as an envoy, but a squirrel just sliced his head off with a scythe. The rest of the party was killed and he only survived by jumping into a boat and paddling with all his might away from the scene."

"That about how it went," the squirrel confessed and folded his paws on his lap. "I… I killed the mouse.

"I killed 'im for me daughter," Nolkin said in quick defence when Olan and Klein shifted on their footpaws behind the prince. "That lordy mouse killed me Mollie, so I killed a lordy mouse in return."

"And then rose the north in defiance of my family," Aesir said coldly and narrowed his eyes.

"I rose me neighbours to arms t'protect their families should corsairs show up 'r another beast come 'ere 'n try t'tell us how t'live our lives," Nolkin countered and sprung to his paws. Two guards at the entrance took a step forward, but Aesir held up a paw to halt them. "You don't e'en know what goes on 'ere… you ne'er see us, our own nobles abandon us for t'south 'alf the time. We try 'n tell you the truth, yet you don't listen- so why should we bother? We gots gems o' our own now. Why should we…"

"Because we are Eutrusians," Aesir replied in a level tone and gestured to the creatures about the pavilion. "Every one of us. Be us from Nilhand, Eurus, Wesrus or Seldor; together we are a kingdom. Together we are strong."

"If we be needed t'make the kingdom strong, why you royal beasts not come up 'ere?" Nolkin questioned. "Why d'ya not come up 'ere 'cept when you want something or 'ave reason t'kill?"

"I cannot make excuses for my lord father, King Matthias, nor would I, had I the words," Aesir continued and stood from his seat to stand before Nolkin again. "A king is unquestionable to anybeast and so his actions beyond query. I cannot change the happenings of the past, Nolkin, but I can help to right the future. You have my word things will change. On my honour as Etifedd of Eutrusia, Nilhand will feel its inclusion in the realm again."

The squirrel's lips pressed into a tight smile and he gave his head a curt bob. "Suppose you be wanting me head now that you 'ave your information?"

"I have a lot to think about, Nolkin," Aesir stated and held eye contact. "You have killed a Syr, a noble of the kingdom, on the king's mission and raised arms against the crown. That is treason and treason is punishable by death."

The squirrel nodded weakly and slumped into his chair, letting his head fall to his paws as he rubbed his palms over his face and ears.

"I fought beside ya," Nolkin muttered. "We all did. We fought off the corsairs t'gether… I only did it for me Mollie. I jus'…"

"Guards," Aesir said sharply and waved the two forward from the entrance. "Take Nolkin back to the holds and keep him there. He is not to be harmed and give him something to eat. I will send for him again once I pass my judgement."

The two grabbed the squirrel and hauled him to his footpaws by his elbows. For a brief moment, Nolkin pulled his arms away from them and looked as though he was going to fight, but subdued himself and stood bravely as they bound his paws with a rope.

"Let me see your paws," Nolkin said sternly as they tried to lead him away. "Your Highness, let me see your paws."

The guards pulled on Nilhander and got him to move a step backwards. "Please… I jus'…"

"Wait," Aesir commanded and held his paw out to the trembling creature. Slowly, the prince turned his wrists to expose his clean palms and fingers.

"'N your pictured ring?" Nolkin gasped out in panicked breaths. Aesir submitted to the question, keeping his eyes fixed on the squirrel. Nolkin said not another word, but pierced his lips into a thin line and relented to the pulls of the guards.

"Do you two think he is telling the truth?" Aesir asked and turned toward his lieutenants once the guards had removed the northerner.

"I don't think he knows how to lie," Olan praised in a demeaning tone. "And he's quite willing to take you to these mines they found."

"Then why the rebellion if they aren't going to protect what they fought for?" Aesir grumbled and leaned back on the table to overlook the death warrant. "Or did they truly fight simply because they saw no other way out?"

"Nolkin said on the battlefield they wanted their voices heard," Klein responded and the prince moved his gaze to the lieutenant. "And now you've heard them. I'd say their plan worked."

"So Syr Ettore died for a whisper," Aesir sighed in frustration. "His life was wasted so a complaint could be heard?"

"Do not let it be as such then, Your Highness," Klein offered. "Ettore was a brave beast and would not want his death held in vain. It is in your paws now how it is honoured."

Aesir stared at the lieutenant. He was a surprisingly knowledgeable beast for a common soldier. He knew Klein had not come from a noble household and had risen to the highest ranks of the Royal Guard by nothing but his own sweat and bravery. Where he had picked up such sound advice was beyond the prince's awareness, but he welcomed it all the same.

"Attainting Nolkin as a traitor would bring peace to Ettore's family I am sure," Aesir mumbled and looked back at the parchment again and then to his quill. "It is our law- traitors are put to death."

"And Nolkin knows it, Your Highness," Olan huffed. "So, let's get his head on a pike and be done with it."

"Yes, he knows our laws and yet went against them," Aesir pondered. "Not many creatures would openly condemn themselves to death."

"Mad beasts do it every day…"

"Nolkin appears the type to live by old morality," Klein put forth. "An eye for an eye."

"Exactly," Olan laughed. "He poked out Ettore's eyes so to speak and now we'll have his."

"Yes, and what point does it stop?" Aesir exhaled loudly and started twirling his signet ring again. "When we are all blind?"

"I believe that would be up to the beast next in line to claim his eye," Klein said knowingly. At Aesir's raised eyebrow, he continued, "the creature has the choice; either take the eye he believes is due to him, or stay his paw. It is up to him what he ultimately decides to do with it. And so, it is up to you to decide what to do with Nolkin."

"A traitor must be made an example of," Olan hissed and eyed his friend warily.

"One will," Aesir said sternly after a brief silence. "Lord Ulrick will be made accountable for his crimes once we are back in Vasilis. He cannot be allowed to take the power of the king and abuse it."

Snatching the paper from the board, Aesir strode to his brazier and tossed the document upon the fire. "There are enough cowards in this world without killing one with the courage to stand up for what is right no matter the consequences. Nolkin was wrong to kill Ettore, but he did it only to avenge the death of his daughter who was wrongfully killed by Ulrick." Turning back to the gaping beasts around him, the prince continued his justifications. "They raised Nilhand to protect their mines from the corsairs and their families from us. They fought only when provoked and may not have at all had their lords been in place to show them guidance. My family has wronged them by appointing weak beasts to their leadership and I will see all these wrongs corrected. I do not believe they rebelled with malicious intent, but stood on a box so we could hear their pleas."

Aesir spun on his heel and marched out of the tent, slapping the canvas flap of the pavilion aside and storming down the hill to the holds were. Behind him his entourage trotted to keep up to his purposeful pace and beasts gave him slight bows as he passed them.

Seeing the prince walking his way, Nolkin pushed himself to his footpaws, his paws still bound and used to secure him to a tree. The four guards watching him moved out of their sovereign's way as he approached and kept their heads bowed in Aesir's presence.

Aesir said not a word, but stared into the captive's eyes, searching for the slightest hint that he made the wrong decision. He did not find any. At the prince's silence, Nolkin anticipated the worst and gave a brave nod in acceptance of his fate. Aesir shook his head and held out his palms.


	14. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Brage stretched his paws to the ceiling and rolled his shoulders against their weariness as he waited for the next set of watchbeasts to relieve him of his duties. The sun was just beginning to light the sky in the east behind him and the young sea otter looked out across the oceanscape from his place in the western watchtower at the entrance to the Bay of Aureli. Carefully, Brage scanned the horizon again for any ships or signs of danger.

Half a mile behind him, the port of Aurelius lulled in the peaceful morning; the great capital of Seldor shadowed the sleepy docks against the warming light and the mighty Palace of Vasilis, the official seat of Eutrusia's royal family, stood high above the city overlooking the vast expanse of her empire. Four hundred fathoms to Brage's direct right curled the western ridge of the bay. Two hundred fathoms to his left jetted the eastern watchtower and another four hundred from it bowed the eastern ridge. In times of trouble, the four points acted as anchors for great chain that could be risen from the ocean by a serious of pulleys and weights, walling off the city from a sea attack by denying any ships entry into the bay. In living memory, the chains had not been needed and, Season's willing, they would not be needed for another age; but still they watched for danger. Still they watched the sea.

Brage surveyed the horizon one last time and then turned back to his watchmate, Gabreel, who was laying on one of the cots in the rounded room.

"Oi!" the sea otter called, never leaving his post. "Gabreel- wake-up! It's dawn, y'know!"

There was an incoherent mumbled response and the water vole rolled over and threw his arm over his head to cover his ears.

"Gabreel!"

"Yeah, keep ya rudder on, Aggy," Gabreel muttered and stretched his footpaws out towards the end of the cot. "I'm up."

"Well, go look out the back, will ya," Brage bade him and pointed to the small window across the room facing the port. "The boats should be coming over with the next shift."

Gabreel groaned and pulled himself into a sitting position to wipe his eyes. He was sore and stiff from his slumber, but he got lazily to his footpaws and waddled his way to the window. As he passed the spiral staircase which led to the horn loft, the water vole let his eyes drift up the two flights of stairs as if to check and see that the mighty horn was still there.

"Is the ol' tri-bell still there?" Brage jested as he referred to the great three-belled horn mounted out its brackets above them. "Fates didn't walk off with, did they?"

"If the Fates can lift the blasted thing, they can have it!" Gabreel grumbled back. "Bloody thing only gets blown when there's trouble."

"Or if there's a returning royal," Brage pointed out as Gabreel scrunched up his nose and waved him off. "What? The Red Prince should be returning soon- it's been a fortnight."

"Oh-la-de-da," the water vole jested and did the final few steps to the window in a feminine prance. "I should practice me curtsy!"

"Y'know, ya don't have to be such a piece o' tripe all the time. That's our Etifedd yar mocking!"

"I'm not mocking _him_," Gabreel scoffed. "I'm mocking all the fuss he's causing. I don't see the need to get all worked up over some princeling slicing other Eutrusians' throats in the north."

"Well, I'm excited," the sea otter confessed and looked back out to the ocean. "It'll be the first time I see the ships come back all bedecked with victory banners and such like. My father always said it was a sight to see!"

"Well, if _Mawredd_ shows her breast, I'll even let you blow the horn!" his watchmate laughed and turned to his own view out the small rounded window. Gabreel smiled at the sight of all the mighty ships roped to their ports or weighing at anchor about the bay. A hundred masts speared the early morning mists raising from the waters and above it all, Saelmere Keep, the seat of Eutrusia's Lord Admiral, stood tall and strong with a single light burning in the Bay Tower.

"The light's a-shining!" Gabreel called to his friend. "That means the watch be on its way!"

"Can you see them?"

"Not in all the mist in the bay," the vole replied and walked along the floor boards to open the trap door below them. "Best get ready though. I'll open the door and uncoil the rope."

"Sure th-" Brage started and then stopped abruptly when something caught his eye. A flash of gold in the distance, but as quickly as it glinted, it was gone again. The sea otter shook his head and rubbed his eyes, trying to get his vision to reproduce the image, but he couldn't.

"What's the matter, Aggy?"

"I thought I saw something," Brage said softly as Gabreel came up beside him. "Out to the northwest- I thought I saw a flash of some sort."

"Uh, maybe I should keep the watch while _you_ make ready the door," the water vole sniggered. "I think your eyes be playing tricks on you, mate!"

"Perhaps, but… eh! Did you see it? It sparkled again. A good ways off the water- did you see-"

"Aye, I saw it!" Gabreel said hastily and grabbed a spyglass from the box between them on the bench and pulled it out to full length. "There's only one type of sail to give off that sort of light." Brage watched as the veteran watchbeast stood still as a statue as he examined the sea before them. After a short time, the corners of his lips curled up and he lowered the spyglass to hand to the otter.

"Better have a look, mate," he said with a wink. "You're going to get that wish of yours!"

Brage quickly put the glass to his eye and say three ships were bobbing on the waves, riding low in the water and at full sail. Gold sails.

_"Mawredd,"_ Brage whispered excitedly as he focused on the center ship and pulled his sight up to her foremast. At her top flapped a large red flag. A victory flag.

"VICTORY!" the otter shouted and jumped off the bench, holding his paws up over his head like a tournament winner. "Gabreel- the flag of victory! I saw it! All three ships are coming back, they're…"

"They're going to need twenty dockyarders a piece to haul them into port!" Gabreel chortled and took the spyglass from the vibrating otter. "So, get your rudder up the stairs and give the ol' horn a damned blow. Don't want those east-towers to signal _Mawredd's_ arrival first, do ya?"

"No!" Brage yelled over his shoulder as he sprinted across the room and scrambled up the steps. Once he reached the top stair, the otter flung himself onto the mouthpiece of the large horn and with a deep breath, blew with all his might.

The sonorous brogue echoed through the dawn, shattering the silence and sped its way through every crevice of the city. At the end of his breath, Brage drew back and listened. Silence. Utter silence with only the whooshing roll of the waves a hundred lengths of beasts below them as a reminder the world around him was real and not just a portrait of stilled hope.

_Did I get the signal wrong?_ Brage thought as the cold line of panic ran down his back. It was one long trumpet for a returning royal and two short twills for a ship not recognized; or was it two shorts for the royals, one long for the…

The sea otter was just about to yell down to Gabreel when he heard another horn sound from the eastern watchtower. Brage smiled- the others had seen them too. Setting his lips on to the mouthpiece, he blew again, trying with all his strength to banish the smile threatening to weaken his efforts. As the horn sounded again, the otter watched the port from the framed window for the horn bells as the port came to life and torches were lit to help burn off the mists and bring the mighty vessels to their docks.

Again, the two watchtowers gusted out another wave of sound, only on the third note, another answered them. And another. The twin horns of the Bay Tower sounded out across the harbour, confirming the watchers' cries; The Red Prince was returning to Aurelius.

Laughing in his excitement, Brage left the horn and bounded down the stairs to the watch floor, only to find it deserted.

"Gabreel!" the sea otter called. "Gabreel- where are ya, mate?"

"Down 'ere!" the water vole bellowed from beneath the trapdoor. "Brage, get your rudder down 'ere- you gotta see this!"

Brage did as he was bidden and jumped down through the floor hole and onto the platform below him to thunder down the stairs towards the entrance. Gabreel was already at the open door, all but hanging out of it to better see the ships slipping across the waters as if racing the very currents themselves.

Brage stared open-mouthed at the sight of the ships, his tired eyes twinkling with exhilaration as he grasped the vole on the shoulder. The vessels bobbed closer on the waves, their golden sails billowed out taunt against the stiff sea breeze and their red banners curling and whipping with the wind. Eutrusia's flagship was in the lead; _Mawredd's_ gilding glistened in the rising light reflecting a golden hue over the diamond speckled sea. On her foremast flapped a large red flag announcing her victorious return. As they came within plain sight, the sun broke over the tops of the city, bright and red.

"Would ya look at that?" Brage exclaimed and raised his paw up to shield his eyes. "Even the sun is welcoming the Red Prince home!"

"A red sun be a warning, you know," Gabreel muttered, but didn't take his eyes off the ships now they were pushing past the watchtowers. They could hear Admiral Daelahn shouting commands to the crew and the sailors running to follow his orders. Royal Guards lined the railings, all of them cheering and waving at their homes.

"How can _that_ be a warning?" the sea otter questioned and motioned to the fo'c'sle where a tall mouse stood alone on the decking, his red cape rising around him with the breeze and a gold coronet reflecting the sunlight. "I don't think the Red Prince needs to take a warning from anything!"

"That's him!" Gabreel cried out. "That's really him- Aggy, did ya see him! That's the Red Prince- Prince Aesir …"

"I thought ya didn't care 'bout all the fuss he makes?" Brage asked with a smirk at his friend's eagerness.

"Well, I… oh, shut it," the water vole grumbled. "Look Aggy- their waving t'us. Come on, give 'em a wave!"

"Huzzah!" they both called and held their paws waving paws up to the sky, pride vibrating through the air as the ships' hornbeasts started to return the Bay Tower's calls.

* * *

Valina was just starting to stir in her slumber when the horns started blowing. At first she just sighed and snuggled closer to Matthias under the thick covers, but as the second blast echoed into their chambers from the open balcony, she opened her eyes to listen to it. Instantly, she recognized the signals and whipped the covers from her body as she sprang to her footpaws.

"Matthias- he's home!" she shouted, picking up her long night gown and running to the balcony while the king grumbled and became conscious of what she was talking about. At the third bay of the horns, he was up and running to his wife.

"I can't see anything," Valina said anxiously and grasped at Matthias' paws. "The fog is too thick… oh Matthias, I can't see…"

The king was silent as he scanned the ocean beyond the watchtowers. His chest was tight with stress and the mist added to it by making the method of the ships' return a mystery.

_Seasons let it be a red flag,_ Matthias pleaded silently. _Keep the black flag in its box._

Together the two monarchs stood on their terrace and watched the sea. They could hear the Bay Tower take up the call at the top of Saelmere Keep, but it wasn't until the sun shone over the city and cast its red light over the waters that they saw three ships; that they could see _Mawredd_ and the red flag which she brought home.

"Matthias- Aesir's back!" Valina gasped and flung herself into his paws. A fortnight of anxiety and worrying exploded from her in tears and mutterings as Matthias held her tight, his own stress leaving from his body. Their son was home. Aesir was home.

* * *

The horns blew across the Bay of Aureli, announcing the return of the fleet. Crews and Guards alike pressed up against the railings of the three vessels, waving arms and calling names to the docks where hordes of creatures were gathering. Orders were shouted, sails drawn up and lines cast to the dockyarders to haul the mighty ships into their ports.

Aesir stood on the fo'c'sle, leaning against the foremast of the _Mawredd_ as she bobbed into place on her wakes and reared against her ropes, as if not wanting to be done with the sea.

_I know how you feel_, the prince thought as he suppressed his apprehensions of return. He had been gone over a fortnight and felt like he had aged ten seasons. Glancing up at Palace Vasilis, Aesir could not help the smile he wore now that he was home, but his smile was quickly followed by a sigh as more responsibility pressed upon his shoulders. He was returning victorious, but informed of the injustices served in Nilhand. Injustices he swore he would reverse.

The prince turned and walked across the decking to help the crew beasts with the ramp once the ship gave into her restraints and rested quietly beside her dock. Over the short voyage they had all gotten used to Aesir lending a paw- he had even help bring up the sail of the main mast during a gale when they needed extra paws to haul up the soaked canvas. Through his simple gestures, Aesir had gained a great respect from all the creatures. He did not hold himself needlessly above other beasts and bore his authority lightly. He was strong in battle and was able to control his bloodwrath, something his grandsire had difficulty doing. Upon their return, all the creatures with him were abuzz with idea that Eutrusia's Red Prince would be their next king- and what a king he would make!

"Home, Your Highness!" Admiral Daelahn chuckled as he came up beside the prince while Aesirwatched the chests of jewels sent from Nolkin and the northerners being unloaded onto the docks below.

"Home," Aesir breathed and gave a slight nod of acknowledgement. "My regards for a safe journey there and back again, Lord Admiral."

"I'm at Your Highness' pleasure," the otter replied, giving a slight bow and turning back to give more instructions to the crew. Aesir smirked as he watched the families below him on the docks greet the Guards home. Fathers dropped to their knees and hugged their young ones, while wives were picked up and swung around before accepting landed kisses on their mouths. A few of the younger maids bolted towards some of the fighters, bulling them over and kissing them like they half expected never to see them again.

"What do you want us to do with the chests, Your Highness?" Loukin questioned him as Aesir started to descend the ramp with his scribes and personal bodyguards following in his shadow.

"Take them to the palace, Loukin," Aesir commanded, motioning to the spires high above them. "Straight into the Grand Gallery. They need to be presented to His Majesty the king before they are taking to the treasury."

"Aye," the otter replied and started organizing the carts to haul the chests with.

"Klein!" Aesir shouted down the wharf as he saw the lieutenant jumping down the riggings of his ship. The mouse looked up and nodded to the prince, giving last minute instructions to a Guard and walking towards Martin.

"Yes, Your Highness?" he said with a quick bow and adjusted his haversack over his back once he stood up again.

"Great victory, my friend," Aesir smiled at him and held out his paw to the lieutenant. Klein hesitated for a moment before clasping his paw warmly.

"Great victory, Your Highness," Klein smiled back proud at the recognition had shown him.

"I will see you at the victory feast tonight then?" Aesir chuckled. "I am sure there will be one organized."

"If that is Your Highness' command," Klein nodded.

"It is," Aesir firmed. "Let the other officers know as well, Klein- oh, and spread the word amongst the fighters and sailors that I will order ale and wine to the barracks for them. They deserve to celebrate as well."

"Aye!" Klein said and bowed away, hearing his name called by a little family waiting patiently for his attention. Aesir watched on as Klein trotted over to mousewife and sturdy little male, pulling them all into a tight embrace. They looked like a very happy family. The prince sighed and felt the weight of the sword at his side and the coronet on his head. Now it was time he went and dealt with his.

* * *

Cerys half walked, half jogged down the open corridor, looking anxiously down to the palace courtyard as the creatures begun to filter through the portcullis. As she went, the princess twisted her headfur up and pinned it roughly in place about her head while her pawmaids fussed with her gown shirts and muttered at her to slow down to a pace more respectable for a young lady.

"M'lady, please slow down so we c'n fix your gown!" an old ottermaid named Maud clucked at her as she tried to adjust the shoulders of the bodice. "His Majesty's not going to appreciate you showing your shoulders!"

"It's the style of the gown, Maud!" Cerys giggled and secured the final strand of headfur in place. "Besides, Mother and Father are already at the steps- I have to be there to greet Aesir!"

The ottermaid chuckled as she watched Cerys blush slightly at the mention of the prince's name. It was a subtle cue, one that would have gone unnoticed had the pawmaid not known the princess so well as to know she didn't crimson easily. But Cerys did look well in the morning light, wearing a long cream gown adorned with heavy gold jewellery. There was something about the way she was so simply dress, without colour or gems, which gave off the aura of timeless elegance and the contrast of her dark, curling headfur arranged up off her neck with the pale, straight lines of her gown that whispered beauty. Yes, the princess was ready to greet the prince home.

Cerys was just descending the steps towards the king and queen when Aesir came through the large gates to the boisterous cheers from the estate. Cerys watched as he stopped and held up his paw, waving his acknowledgement of their support, and made his way to the base of the stairs.

"Your Majesties," Aesir greeted them and bowed to Matthias and Valina, stretching back up and focusing his blue eyes directly on Cerys. "Your Highness," he added with a nod and a warm smile. "And my lords, as well. I trust the Seasons greet you all well?"

"Of course they do, my son!" Matthias boomed and descended the marble stairs to go to his prince. Desperately, the king wished to embrace him and tell him how glad he was now he was home, but Matthias knew he had to act accordingly in front of the nobles. Instead of a hug, the king put a paw on his son's strong shoulders and grinned to see Aesir was now slightly taller than him. "Eutrusia welcomes her victorious Etifedd and Captain home!"

More cheers rose from the onlookers and the guards even rapped their spears against their shields to add to the ruckus.

"Are those the heads of the traitors, Your Highness?" asked Elrad, the Baron of Seldor, as he motioned to the chests being unloaded from the carts.

"No," Aesir replied and eyed the baron coldly. "They are not."

Matthias raised an eyebrow at Martin's curt response and noted the hard look flashing across the prince's eyes.

"Well, then what are they?" Elrad huffed and crossed his arms impatiently. "You did kill the rebels didn't you? That was the purpose of your mission…"

"I do not believe it is you I have to answer to, Baron Elrad," Aesir responded and took a step around Matthias to eye the haughty noble otter. "Nor need I be lectured by you on my duties."

"Apologies, Your Highness," Elrad relented immediately and bowed his head in submission. "I overstepped my boundaries."

"What are in the chests, Aesir?" Matthias asked now that he had been directed to their attention.

"A gift for Your Majesty," the prince replied. "From the creatures of Nilhand to show their loyalty to the crown."

"Traitors don't give gifts, Aesir," the king cautioned him.

"No, but loyal subjects who have been misunderstood will," Aesir said and then added in a whisper, "I need to speak to you- in private, without the council."

His father's eyes went wide for a brief moment before giving the barest of nods and motioned back to the queen and Cerys to come forward.

"Enough of politics for now," Matthias said in a loud voice. "Valina, come help me greet our son home- you too, Cerys."

"Lady Mother," Aesir said formally and bowed low.

"Oh, Aesir- stop!" Valina cried and threw her arms around her son's neck, letting a light sob escape her throat when he put his paws around her. She could hear her husband scoff at her in the background at her lack of decorum, but she didn't care. She had taken at least ten seasons off her life from all her worrying and she had to feel him in her paws to assure herself he was safe. She was a mother first and a queen second whenever it came to Aesir and mothers always hugged their sons after they returned from battle. Silently she sent up prayers to the Seasons that he would always come home from battle in this fashion; in one piece and only minor wounds.

"I'm alright, Mama," Aesir whispered in her ear. "You can stop crying. I'm home."

Valina let out a little chuckle and released him of her tight hold. "I know you are, Aesir."

Aesir nodded to her and turned to Cerys. His whole body tingled when he looked into her smiling face and he had to force himself to breathe.

"Welcome home, Aesir," she said sweetly and dipped him a shallow curtsy. "We have all missed you."

"Ah, Cerys, I've missed you," Aesir said quietly to her, completely mesmerized by her soft green eyes. Taking her paw in his, Aesir pressed his lips to her fingers and breathed in the familiar scent of oranges.

Cerys blushed slightly at his attentions, her stomach fluttering when he turned his blue eyes up to hers and they twinkled in the morning light. She thought he looked very handsome clad in his dark blue tunic and red cloak, his gold coronet sitting proudly on his head. She smiled as she saw he had the smallest nick out of his left ear; a battle scar. Cerys felt her stomach flitter again when her mind thought of where else he could have scars. Instantly, her face flamed deeper.

"I think we should get out of the sun," Valina said quickly once she noticed Cerys's flushed expression. "None of us will enjoy the victory feast if we have heatstroke!"

"Indeed," agreed the king and held up his arm for Valina to take as he led the gathering nobles up to the Grand Gallery. Pausing halfway up the steps, Matthias turned and motioned for the Guards to bring up the chests. "Place them in the Council Chambers," he ordered and then eyed the present Eutrusian nobility. "My lords, I will meet with you all at the tenth bell after I speak with my son."

They all nodded and bowed, each taking a step back to give the royal family a wider berth. Once inside the cool shade of the palace, Matthias let Valina's paw slip off his arm and he gestured for only Aesirto follow him towards their chambers. The prince had barely taken two steps into the monarch's chambers when he was grabbed by the back of his collar and shoved roughly into his father's private study.

"Father, what…"

"What do you mean by subjects misunderstood?" Matthias said sharply and started rifling through parchment and scrolls on his desk. Urgency quickened his speech and Aesir couldn't help but noticed the worried look on his father's face.

"Just what I said," Aesir retorted and took a seat in a large armchair by the fire. He had always been comfortable in his father's study, but somehow there was a heavy weight to the air; like the floor wound open into a great abyss and swallow them whole. "The Nilhanders' have been misunderstood by us- their motives were not completely malicious…"

"Next you're going to tell me you joined the enemy to battle one front," Matthias grumbled and tossed aside an armful of scrolls. At Aesir's silence, the king looked up and held his breath.

"The Nilhanders joined the Guard on the field and we battled off some corsairs that had sailed down the Eu in search of the mines."

"Aesir, let me see your paws," Matthias gasped out and pulled himself around his desk to stride towards his son.

"See my paws…"

"Let me see them!" Matthias shouted, grabbing Aesir by the wrist and coarsely turning his paw over to reveal his palm and fingers. They were clean. "You didn't sign a warrant," Matthias breathed and let the prince take back his paw. "Your paws are clean."

"No, I did not sign an execution warrant," Aesir countered. "If you let me explain…" But his father wasn't listening. Already he was back at his desk; batting papers out of the way in his frantic search and then suddenly the king stopped and took up an open scroll in his paws. Aesir was utterly confused. He had never seen his father act this way, so uncertain, so panicked.

"Father…" Aesir started, but Matthias held up a paw to quiet him.

"The Red Prince gives mercy where others use might," Matthias said in a low voice while he looked down at the ancient text as if scanning it for clues. "Welcome the dark; beware of the light."


	15. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"Father, what is that?" Aesir asked pointedly as Matthias continued to stare at the document in his grasp. Rising to his footpaws, the prince moved cautiously to stand in front of his father's gilded desk. "What did you just read?"

"A prophesy, Aesir," the king responded and slowly sunk into his chair, never taking his eyes from the parchment. "One the prophets gave my father before I was betrothed to your mother."

The prince shifted uncomfortably on his paws. Not many seeings from those creatures were ever recorded and if written down they were to be destroyed once deciphered. How his father still had one, over a score of seasons old, was beyond him.

"May I see it?" Aesir pleaded softly. Matthias exhaled loudly and held out the paper.

The world stilled for a moment as the prince hesitated; his paw posed over the scroll for the span of two eye blinks before he inhaled strongly and curled his claws around the document to bring it back to him.

He read the first few lines in silence before looking up at his father and clearing his throat to recite the prophesy aloud.

"The moon shines brightest in the black of night,  
The sun flames red when the fight is right.  
The strength of the Fates will be born in two,  
While the Seasons' line begins anew.  
Bring forth the Scroll,  
Bring forth the Sword,  
Bring forth the Warrior,  
To stand for All.  
From their union he will come to hail,  
Across the borders he will not fail.  
Mists will hide true purpose laid,  
Though heart and honour will not fade.  
Bring forth the Maiden,  
Bring forth the Prince,  
Bring forth their Son,  
Eutrusia's Red Prince."

"This is it?" Aesir questioned. "This prophesy led my grandfather to wed you to my mother?"

"Yes," Matthias sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"The Scroll is you," the prince observed, narrowing his eyes at the lines and studying the poems words and rhythm. "And the Sword is Mother."

"Yes."

"It actually calls me the Red Prince," Aesir whispered in disbelief. "No beast called me that until my battle with the corsairs on the beach, and even allowing that, it was the commoners and the Guards who started that name- none of them would ever have seen this…"

"You are only the third beast to ever view this prediction, Aesir," Matthias confessed. "I have never even shown it to your mother."

"Where are the lines you quoted?" the prince asked. "I don't see them here."

"Keep reading," the king said plainly and at Aesir's stillness, he rolled his eyes. Aesir smirked at the trait his father picked up from his mother. "Unroll more of the scroll, son," he chuckled. The prince did as he was bidden, pulling down the roll to find more words inked and curled onto the paper.

"Banners high and blood red sands,  
Twin battles carve a peaceful land.  
Let him grow, let him flourish,  
Let his heart grow strong then warish.  
Bring forth the Dagger,  
Bring forth the Shield,  
Bring forth the Sword,  
To ensure their Yield.  
When he is ready, his bloodwrath strong,  
Look to the east, its cors-like throng.  
Yet don't despair at an empty bed,  
She comes to you aft four beasts dead.  
Bring forth the Princess,  
Bring forth the Heart,  
Bring forth the Memories,  
The Arrow's painful dart.  
It all begins with an endless night,  
The Elderstar signals the start of the fight.  
Sides can be switched, enemies friends,  
Misunderstood subjects, bridges to mend.  
Courage for battle, bravery for life  
Be wary of she who carries a knife.  
The Red Prince gives mercy where others use might,  
Welcome the dark; beware of the light."

The only sounds that could be heard were the crackles of the fires in their grates and the distant rolls of the ocean below the open terrace of the royal chambers. Twisting shadows waved over the study from the flapping banners atop the palace spires outside the windows; their forked ends tonguing the Eutrusian crest of Scroll and Sword engraved above the fire mantle like snakes to its prey. The two mice watched it for a moment, before the sun dipped behind a cloud and the shadows were erased from the chamber.

"What does it mean?" Aesir breathed, breaking the silence between them. "Father," he started and turned his gaze from the crest to Matthias, "What does this prophesy mean?"

"I'm not completely sure, Aesir," Matthias said gently and carefully took the scroll from his son's paws. "I'm not sure my father even knew, or if he ever saw the last section. I believe all he saw was what he wanted to see: A marriage, an heir and no sign of failure."

"And you have kept this all these seasons?" pressed the prince as his father flattened the parchment over the table. "Why?"

"Because the marriage between your mother and I is only half of the seeing," the king replied earnestly. "And the second half I believe carries more than just one warning, to more than just one beast."

"A warning?" Aesir exclaimed in disbelief.

His father nodded. "I have tried to decode it every day since… well, since the day you were almost killed."

"Since I was almost killed?" Aesir questioned and shook his head. "When was I almost killed?"

"When you were three days old your mother and I nearly lost you," Matthias said quietly. "The Fates were moments short of their prize and had your mother not insisted you had some free time from your swaddling bands, you would be dead.

"It was during a storm," he continued at his son's silence. "Lightning must have struck a banner pole and it broke away from a spire. The metal tip shattered our window glass and speared itself through your cradle. It was only moments before this that your mother was done feeding you and we had laid you out on the rug before the fire to watch you…" he stopped and closed his eyes against the memory.

"The banner poles have rounded tops," Aesir argued and pointed out an example from the window of the study. "They're spheres."

"Now they are. They were not before," the king informed him before going to the sideboard and retrieving a decanter of wine from the salver. "One of my first orders as king was to change them all."

Aesir waited patiently while his father poured the wine and handed him a goblet, motioning for them to take their places around his desk again.

"Something is coming, Aesir," Matthias said after another forced silence. "A shadow from the east lurks; something of two, something from the Fates. Our line, the Seasons' line began anew with your birth- you hold both your families' blessings.

"I know I was hard on you," he continued. "Since your first day of training to your battle on the beach, I have not been the father I once was, but you must understand my reasoning. I knew of this threat growing and every day you showed restraint where others of your skill would have demonstrated their might, the weight of prophesy pressed heavier on my shoulders. Each time you failed to show bloodwrath my worry for our kingdom, for our family, grew."

"And so now you know I can kill, you can sleep well at night?" Aesir voiced sternly. He couldn't help the contempt in his tone as seasons of his father's glares and sharp comments quivered inside him. "Is that supposed to make me feel better- grow close to you again?"

"Aesir…"

"Can we talk of something else?" the prince interrupted, downing his wine and motioning to the document. "Like why the third part of the prophesy does not follow the meter of the previous two stanzas."

"Third part?" Matthias inquired. "There are only two parts, Aesir."

"No, there are three. The last eight lines do not hold with the previous syntax nor carry the same rhythm. They are separate; almost entirely alone from the rest of the seeing."

"A continuation of thought," Matthias countered. "The prophets must simply record what they hear or see."

"Maybe, but why is it in a different paw," Aesir remarked and tapped his claw on the parchment. "That is different writing here than that above it."

Matthias rose from his chair and leaned over his desk, scrutinizing the work before him. "You are right, Aesir. Very good, my son- I never noticed that before. Perhaps I should have shown this to you earlier."

"Perhaps you should let me in on your hidden transactions," Aesir said coldly. "Then I wouldn't find myself the fly caught in your web, and may by chance have time to weave my own before the Spider throws out a snare."

Matthias grimaced at the reference. "There are no longer webs in this kingdom, Aesir. They were all knocked down with the death of your grandfather."

"With the exception of your own, of course."

"Aesir, what are you talking about?" Matthias huffed and shook his head. "What has this got to do with the prophesy?"

"I am talking about why you did not keep me informed about all the dealings in Nilhand!" Aesir rallied. "But then why would you need to? I was simply bred to wield a weapon and I can do that. Information would just interfere with me swinging my sword in the right direction, would it not?"

"Aesir, you are kept informed," Matthias argued strongly. "How could I expect you to conduct judgement without knowledge? I briefed you on the happenings in Nilhand…"

"Briefed is a good word for it, yes," the prince scoffed. "You were _brief _with the details."

"Alright, Aesir," Matthias said, resting against the back of his chair. "Let it out. Speak your mind and get it over with."

"You didn't tell me everything!" Aesir yelled and snapped up from his seat. "You sent me to the north thinking these creatures were vicious beasts threatening the safety of Eutrusia. They were not but farmers and miners seeking justice for unjust actions inflicted upon them by their overlords and our envoys…"

"Aesir our envoys did not act unjustly," Matthias corrected his son. "One of them gave his life…"

"The blood from Syr Ettore's death does not lie on a Nilhander's paws, but that of the first envoy," Aesir affirmed. "Lord Ulrick of Ruarden Manor is as much responsible for his death as the beast that slit his throat."

"Ulran's son?" Matthias gaped. "Aesir, you are mistaken. Ulrick wasn't in the north."

"Where was he then?" Aesir pushed.

"Managing his father's affairs in Eurus while _Baron Ulran_ was in the north," the king stated. "Or so he should have been much to your aunt's vexation, I'm sure," he added with a chuckle.

"So, Ulrick was not your first envoy?"

"No, Ulran was," Matthias stressed. "When we discovered the chest of jewels from your corsair encounter, I ordered Ulran to Nilhand to find out answers as to where the gems came from and why they were trading with vermin."

"Yes, well it seems Aunt Lila's husband is as good at taking orders as his father had been," Aesir mocked. "Ulran did not go north- Ulrick did."

"Ulran is nothing to Neron," his father snapped at the slight to his friend and extended family. "You know that yourself, Aesir. Ulran is more loyal to our family than any other beast in the kingdom. He would never betray me. Besides, I received a missive from him with his failed findings before I sent Syr Ettore up."

"And did the message from Ulran ever mention the word _I?" _the prince pried. At his father's pondering, he added. "And when has Baron Ulran ever failed at any mission of state you sent him on?"

"We seem to be at two ends of a rope, Aesir," Matthias said plainly. "Why don't you tell me what you know and I will tell you what I know. Perhaps then we can meet in the middle."

It took Aesir the length of a bell to recount all his happenings in Nilhand. He told his father everything from the battles to his meetings with Nolkin and the other northerners, his tour of the mines and the brutal measures which Ulrick enlisted to demonstrate the strength of the crown.

"The Nilhanders are not rebels, Father," Aesir concluded. "One confusion toppled after another and once at the heart of it, there was no true reason for it all save our failure to them as monarchs." Matthias raised his eyebrow to his son, not wholly convinced on his statement. "They asked for help and no beast heard their pleas. They called for assistance and still we did not bend an ear, then once they unsheathed their swords to defend their own, we named them traitors and marched with the purpose to kill them. It seems to me it is us who were traitorous to them."

"Aesir, Aesir, Aesir," Matthias muttered as he rubbed his paw over his face. "You think too much with your heart sometimes and not enough with your head. I could call you a fool, but it's too late for that. You realize you rewarded a rebel, a beast fighting against our kingdom, with the gift of a longer life?"

"I rewarded a creature brave enough to stand for him home another dawning, yes," the prince rephrased. "The true rebels will be brought to heel here in Vasilis."

"Aesir as much as I want to, I cannot strip Baron Falcor from his title," Matthias grumbled. "He is the only heir to the Deodar line. He must continue it." At Aesir's wary glance the king relented. "Don't worry son, his title is now empty in everything, but a name."

"Nilhand needs to be governed," Aesir asserted. "It cannot be without a noble representative…"

"It will," the king nodded in agreement. "Falcor will remain at Ashbryar for all intents and purposes, but he will have no power to pass judgements on anything. His son Talanis is to become a royal ward so we may shape him into something useful and when he comes of age, he will immediately succeed his father to the baronage."

"I was speaking of others," the prince pressed gently. He was not looking forward to this confrontation. "Baron Ulran and Lord Ulrick, Father."

Matthias waved him off and stood from his chair to go to the window. Aesir could tell from the tight expression on his father's face he did not want to pursue this.

"Father, they must be brought to question," he stressed, standing up. "They must answer for their actions against you and Eutrusia's creatures."

"I simply have a hard time believing Ulran would do such a thing," Matthias drawled out. "After all we have fought for together and in our own personal battles… It is not like him."

"It is more Lord Ulrick we must focus on," Aesir put in, trying to soften the dagger of betrayal twisting its point into his father's heart. "His brutal actions set this mess from confusion to chaos."

"Brutal actions," Matthias muttered under his breath and let his mind drift to other matters concerning the forceful lord and a certain gentle maiden.

"Father?" Aesir said with a puzzled expression. "Did you say something?"

"No, Aesir," he replied. "I just have a lot to think about, that's all."

Turning around, the king watched his son lean over the desk to read the prophesy again.

"Aesir, you're exhausted," Matthias expressed once the prince yawned for the second time. "Go to your chambers to rest. Tonight we will celebrate your victory and tomorrow you and I will visit the prophets and see if we cannot reach the meaning of the seeing once and for all. Events are coming to light and we must know their meanings. Once we deal with that, we will meet with the council and discuss what is to be done with Nilhand."

Aesir acknowledged his father with a sigh and a nod, placing his goblet gently on the salver while he walked past to exit the royal chamber.

"I think I'll go walk along the beach for a while first," Aesir put in as he reached the door. "I need to feel the sand beneath my paws."

* * *

_Where did he get to?_ Cerys thought to herself as she hopped off the slate step of the sea stair and began following Aesir's paw prints in the sand. It was after the third bell and every beast was looking for him to start the preparations for his victory feast. The last beast to see him had been Matthias who only knew Aesir expressed a wish to go to the beach, but that had been hours ago. He should have been back in his chambers by that point, but in true Aesir form, he still wasn't back yet. While the heralds and footbeasts searched the palace and surrounding grounds, Cerys had slipped away from her pawmaids and made for the sea to conduct her own search.

Following his markings around the southern point, Cerys rounded a slight bend in the shoreline before spying Aesir sleeping on the sand ten paces from her. She smiled at his still form and blushed when she realized he was clad only in his shirt; his tunic draped casually over his sword where it was thrust in the sand with his belt and coronet looped on the cross hilt.

_He must have gone swimming and fell asleep drying off_, Cerys mused as she listened to his soft snores mimic the rise and break of the waves.

"Aesir?" she said softly when she reached him and knelt beside him. The prince uttered a low groan and wiggled himself further into the warm sands as though it were the finest feather mattress.

"Aesir," Cerys tried again, only this time she stretched out a paw to stroke his ears to wake him gently. He moved faster than she could blinked.

Her paw had barely touched his fur when she felt it grabbed and twisted behind her neck before she was pushed backwards onto the sand. The next instant, Aesir had her pinned beneath him, his eyes hard and misting pink with barred teeth. When she gulped Cerys could feel a cold edge at her throat.

"Aesir…"

"Hellsgates, Cerys!" Aesir cursed, he expression softening and he stabbed his dagger into the ground beside them. "What are you doing here?"

"Every beast is looking for you," Cerys stuttered out. "I was just trying to wake you…"

"I'm sorry, Cerys," Aesir sighed and eased his hold on her, but didn't move from on top of her. "I'm fresh from battle… I'm still on edge."

Cerys nodded quickly, acknowledging her mistake and slightly wiggled under his weight.

At her movement, Aesir's expression hardened. Slowly, his mind worked through its sleepiness and defensiveness; registering Cerys wasn't an attacker, but was in fact a beautiful mousemaid he had beneath him. His pulse quickened as he looked into her eyes and briefly remembered his departure on the docks when he had come so close to kissing her.

"No, the blame is mine," she admitted. "I should have called out to you louder."

"It probably wouldn't have made a difference," relented the prince. "I was so tired, you could have buried me in the sand and I would not have woken up."

"I'll remember that for next time," Cerys giggled and brought her paw up to stroke his cheek. Aesir closed his eyes at her touch; her paw was so soft on his fur and it smelled like cloves. He breathed the warm scent deeply into his lungs. Everything seemed perfect- the sea, the warm sand, the scents, Cerys's touch. He never wanted that moment to end, but to grow. Inwardly, he pictured his nights in the north after their victory when many of the Guard led a pretty maid into the privacy of the trees to enjoy each other; but instead of a Guard, he pictured himself, and instead of a doxy, he pictured Cerys.

"Aesir, are you alright?" Cerys said innocently. "You're shaking."

"I'm fine," Aesir breathed, dismissing his thoughts and reluctantly pushing away from her. "The breeze has picked up and I have a chill."

"You had better put on the rest of your clothes then," Cerys advised and felt her cheeks flame at her words. Pushing herself up into a sitting position, the princess swivelled on her bottom to give Aesir some privacy so he could dress. "Is the water warm?" she questioned in attempt to quell the awkward silence between them.

"Yes," Aesir chuckled his response. "You should go sea bathing tomorrow."

"Possibly," Cerys smirked and eyed him discreetly over her shoulder as he adjusted his sword belt around his waist.

Aesir raised his eyes and watched as Cerys quickly averted her gaze forward. He felt the fur on the back of his neck prickle and his pulse quicken at the idea that Cerys was watching him.

Did she have the same feelings for him as he had for her? Aesir wondered. Were they both fighting against their hearts?

_Stop it,_ Aesir admonished himself and let his sword slide into its sheath to complete his ensemble. _Stop thinking about it. Just st…_

"Aesir, are you dressed yet?" she asked. "Can I turn around?"

"Er, yes- sorry," Aesir muttered and felt his breath catch in his throat when Cerys turned around and the dimming light reflected in her eyes. She giggled at his expression, bringing the prince out of his thoughts and back to reality once more.

"Shall we go, my lady?" Aesir said with a bow and he held out his arm for her. "Apparently I have a feast I must be present for."

"Of course, my lord," Cerys replied with a mocking air. Sweeping Aesir a grand curtsy, she placed her paw lightly on his arm and they both proceeded back to the palace.

"Just wait until the king hears you have made me late, again," Aesir teased. "Not to mention yourself, Your Highness."

"We won't be late if we run," Cerys laughed and grinned broadly when she saw a mischievous look flash across Aesir's eyes.

"Do you still think you can out run me?" he whispered in her ear, his lips a hairsbreadth away from her fur. He smiled as Cerys shivered at his gesture.

"I can beat you to the stair if that's what you mean!" Cerys chortled and twisted away from him to gather her gown skirts in paw and stand at the ready.

Aesir snickered and drew a line in the sand before them with his footpaw before lining up beside her. Resting his left paw on his sword hilt to stop it from swaying in his run, he started counting, "On three. One…"

"Three!" Cerys shouted and took off down the sands, leaving a dumbfounded Aesir shaking his head before he righted himself and spirited away after her.

* * *

Matthias came up behind Valina while she watched from their private balcony as two young mice ran along on the beach laughing at each other. The king clasped his paws on her shoulders to give them an affectionate squeeze before placing a soft kiss on her cheek. Valina leaned back into his chest and nuzzled his shoulder; the pair of them spending a moment in quiet embrace, completely content in their time together. Once Matthias followed her gaze to the other pair of mice running the shoreline, he sighed and straightened up slightly.

"Don't even think about it, Valina," Matthias said sternly. At Valina's surprised expression, he added, "I know that look of yours. The answer is no."

"It's time Aesir took a wife," his queen retorted. "As you pointed out earlier, we were married at his age and well, he came along shortly."

"Itching to be a grandmother, are you?" Matthias jested and smiled at her lovingly. "You're still too young to gain that title yet, Vali."

"Flattery won't get you that far, Matthias," she sniggered and rolled her eyes at him. "I am talking of facts. He is seventeen seasons old after all- the nobles are starting to talk as to why he isn't at least betrothed."

"Let them talk," Matthias snorted. "Gives them something else to gossip about besides unimportant things like trade, poverty or the popular colours of the season," he mocked.

"I'm being serious, Matthias."

"As am I."

"Aesir is a male-"

"Thank the Seasons- the Etifedd's a male!"

"Oh!" Valina exclaimed and tapped her husband on the nose. "Will you let me finish?"

Matthias laughed heartily and grinned at her. "Of course."

"What I'm trying to say is Aesir is old enough to… that is he may start to want… he shouldn't…"

"It's alright, Valina," Matthias whispered. "I've already talked to him about that long ago."

"About waiting until he's married?" Valina questioned quickly.

"About how to be careful should the occasion arise," Matthias answered. "I'm afraid the rules apply a bit differently between males and maids."

Valina snorted her refute. "The rule should be the same across the board."

"Yes, well I fear every male wants to be a maid's first, but _no female_ wants to be a male's- I assure you that," Matthias snickered lightly before dropping his playful expression at Valina's glare. "To my knowledge Aesir hasn't gotten _that_ far _yet,_ but he is testing the waters." She deepened her scowl. "Alright, alright, I'll talk to him again," he relented and raised his paws in defense. "But you might as well come to terms your little babe _is_ seventeen seasons old - as you proclaim - and it won't be long before he becomes a full mouse."

"Then you had better find him a wife," Valina sniped and turned around to view Aesir and Cerys still trotting about the sands below them in a sort of game now.

"Valina, were it that easy, Aesir would be wed by now," Matthias sighed. "But his situation is… complicated. Besides, a choice for him will not be simple for the maid is not just marrying an Etifedd, but a captain, a warrior…"

"I know one that just may be able to deal with him," Valina offered softly and grinned at Aesir's loud bolt of laughter.

"Cerys's already betrothed," the king said firmly. "And it is a good match for all parties concerned."

"You are still going to go through with it despite what Aesir has told you?" Valina gaped at him. "You know the brutality Ulrick is capable of and yet you still consider it… _a good match?"_

"It is a good match," Matthias explained, but evaded the primary question. "Ulrick would never dare try anything like that on her, and if he is that headstrong, a direct marriage alliance with Cerys will ensure his loyalty to Aesir.

"He's a brute."

"You've never met him."

"You've never let me," Valina reminded her husband. "And Ulran has never brought him to court - _ever. _Your sister rarely speaks of him in her letters and when she does her words are… calculated."

"Dellia and Ulrick do not see eye to eye," Matthias smirked. "But neither did the two of you at the beginning and I wouldn't say you were a bad beast because of it."

Valina held her tongue and pierced her lips. "I still don't like it," she grumbled out finally.

"I know. Ulrick is… difficult, but Cerys is independent and strong beneath her soft exterior. She will have no problems finding her footpaws in Eurus and both Dellia and Ulran are right there should she run into any problems with him."

"But you are reconsidering," Valina smiled triumphantly when she heard the hesitation in his voice.

Matthias' response was plain. "I am still weighing my options."

"Two birds with one stone, Matthias," Valina quoted. "Aesir is more than strong enough to deal with anything Ulrick could possible throw at him."

"They can't, Valina," Matthias said strongly. "They have grown up together…"

"But never as a brother and sister," Valina affirmed. "We have always been very careful to differentiate between the two of them."

"She's not royalty, Valina," he firmed.

"She has been brought up as a princess," Valina countered him. "She is more qualified than any to be his match."

"She does not have the right blood. He must choose a noble maid for his bride."

"I was not noble," Valina urged along her point. "You still married me."

"And look at the mess that caused!" Matthias gasped out. "Uprisings, slaughter, blood in the fields. That is no way for a young couple to come to power."

"No, but it would not be the same for them," Valina predicted. "I feel theirs would be a great celebration. After all, the Red Prince marrying the Princess of the Sea sounds like it's from one of those old mousetales you used to read to me."

"Princess of the Sea?" Matthias sniffed. "Who is that?"

"Cerys," the queen informed him. "That is what the Aurelians call her anyways."

"Because she came from the sea," the king nodded and watched his wife's amused expression. A loud squeak sounded and both monarchs looked down to see Aesir catch Cerys around the waist and spin her around in the shallows. Valina let out a chuckle as her son tripped on Cerys's long gown and they both fell into the water while Matthias laughter boomed at the sight of them.

"They are both young, Valina," Matthias said with a smile. "It is a passing attraction and nothing more."


	16. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The Feasting Hall of Palace Vasilis was a cavalcade of music, revelry and light. Torches blazed in their sconces along the length of the walls and five iron candelabrums holding one hundred waxes a piece hung straight down the center of the hall. Each table sat twenty beasts, red linens draped over the boards and arrangements of flora streamed down the middle from head to foot. Nobles laughed and broke their bread over hammered pewter plates and goblets while wooden ale tankards overflowed with drink. A musicians' balcony peaked over the crowds playing light airs as the serving beasts carried large platters up the stairs from the royal kitchens, the salvers hoisted above their heads boasting delicacies from all four states.

Roasted whitefish with citrus and thyme, baked snapper glazed with sugarcane and mustard seeds, stuffed crabs, peppered shrimp, mussels, clams, oysters; fledgling game birds basted with cranberries and bowls upon bowls of salads shipped up from the depths. Plates were filled, cleared, replaced and filled again before a beast even knew it was the next course. Cauldrons of stews and chowders suspended on chains between two poles by sturdy otters and hedgehogs were brought in to perfume the air with spices and smells that made even the fullest of stomachs growl with the need for more. More than one belt had been eased off by the time the dessert courses appeared in vast displays of pastries, fresh fruit, creams and caramels.

A great cheer went up from the assemblage as Matthias rose from his gilded throne at the dais table gesturing to the kitchen stairwell where a plump hare swaggered up the steps and bowed to his majesty.

"My Lords and Ladies, the Champion of our Stomachs, Master Chef Bartholomew Fleetenpaw!" the king enunciated over the applause and three cheers went up for 'Ol' Barty!' as the hare made another sweeping bow so low, his whiskers brushed the floor, before snapping to attention and returning to the haven of his ovens and roasters.

The noisy chatter resumed and Matthias sat back in his chair to lean towards his son.

"Not bad on a bad feast on a short notice," he said with a twinkle to his eye.

"I'd say not!" Aesir laughed. "But then, when has Barty ever let you down?"

"Not since my wedding day when the cake fell!" Matthias reminisced. "But since then I don't think he's attempted to sack _ten_ layers on top of one another!"

Aesir gave his father a puzzled look. "You've never told me that tale before."

"Cakes and desserts are not exactly a common topic between you and me." Matthias took a gulp of his wine and tipped his head to Valina. "Ask your mother- she'll tell you all about it."

Aesir simply chuckled and glanced over at his mother; regally dressed in a deep green damask and bedecked with strings of emeralds around her neck and wrist while the Eutrusian Consort's Crown sat neatly between her ears and nestled into her carefully styled headfur. The crown was striking. Comprised of countless diamonds, it was a solid wall of glittering ice with not a sliver of space between them symbolizing the solidarity of the queen to her king and husband. While the king was strong for his subjects, the queen was solid- backing him in every decision and expedition. Together, strong and solid, they were unwavering for their kingdom and one day when his father's heavy rose gold and diamond crown sat upon Aesir's head, he too would have a queen that was dedicated to him.

"Valina, why don't you signal the musicians to play a few dances," Matthias said and held her paw under the table. "It seems my surprise is not here yet."

"Oh- and what would that be?" she asked. "What kind of surprise have you commissioned?"

"You'll see," the king smirked. "But I will tell you it was challenging given the late hour!"

The queen tittered and flicked her wrist towards the balcony to strike up the music into a volte. Noblebeasts rose from their tables and took partners, striding into the center of the hall and entering into the steps of the dance.

"Don't be a wallflower, Aesir," Matthias jested with his son and nodded towards a gathering group of mousemaids. "I believe you owe Lady Giada a dance from the last feast you said you weren't dancing at and then cut in with Cerys."

"I suppose I have to make it up to her," the prince replied and grinned at the pretty maiden casting shy eyes up at him.

"I suppose you do," the king smiled and rose from his chair again. "Shall we, my lady?" he questioned his queen and held his paw down to her.

"You are wanting to dance the first number?" Valina said, eyeing her husband suspiciously. "I think your wine goblet could have done with a few less refills, Matthias."

"Is it a crime to celebrate my son or enjoy my beautiful wife," he scoffed. "For if it is, I'll abolish the ruling."

"Hmm," she murmured and took his paw. Gracefully, she twisted him around so she was standing beside Aesir's chair and whispered something in Matthias' ear to distract him while she discreetly moved his goblet away from his place setting. Aesir chuckled to himself at his mother's tactful regulation of his father's intake and watched them descend to the polished stone floor.

"What's he covering up?" Cerys said from her seat beside Valina's throne in a voice only loud enough for Aesir to hear. Leaning on the arm of her chair, she looked Aesir in the eye, "He only ever drinks like that when his mind is full."

"He's not drunk, Cerys," Aesir stated, knowing his father had just cause to dull his senses for the evening before the severity of the next few days ascended upon him. "He's just… pleasantly listless."

"Pleasantly listless," she derided and rolled her soft green eyes at him. "You can't lie to me, Aesir. I know him just as well as you and I bet right now Mother is trying to squeeze information out of him," the princess added with a discreet point of her paw towards the monarchs.

"Oh, really!" Aesir laughed and took a sip of his own wine. "How do you know that?"

"Because it's the same way I would get information out of you," she giggled. "It's private enough to talk lowly during a dance and public enough that you can't avoid the question."

Aesir let his head rear back in a bolt of laughter. "What's so funny?" she demanded. "I wasn't jesting!"

"That's what makes it comical," Aesir confessed. "You were serious, but I'm sorry to tell you, you would not be unsuccessful."

"Is that so?" she challenged and stood from her chair. "Well, I guess we'll never know, now shall we?"

Aesir leaned back in his chair to view her flattening the satin fold of her lavender gown and fussing with her headfur where it was pinned to the left side of her head to cascade down the front of her shoulder to her hip.

"Has Father seen the back of that gown?" Aesir teased her and pointed a claw at the low 'v' stretching to the small of her back.

"No," she replied.

"He's not going to approve."

"The front is cut high enough," she said, defending her new gown and running a paw over the straight neckline over her collarbone and down the length of her drooping sleeves. "Besides, no beast is going to look at my back when I am wearing Aunt Dalila's diadem!" she put in and turned her head for the light to catch the amethysts and pearls settled at her brow.

"Well, if it was enough to catch Baron Ulran's attention…" Aesir started, but let his voice fade off at the mention of Eurus' baron. Grumbling under his breath, Aesir fidgeted with his golden vambraces and twisting them on his wrists for better comfort.

"Aesir?"

"Don't worry about it, Cerys," he said shortly and got to his footpaws, walking around to the front of the dais and leaning on the table to better view the dancers.

"You're resting on that as if it were a ship's railing," Cerys chided and moved beside him.

"It's what I've been used to for that past four days," Aesir said and adjusted his gold and ruby collar spread over his shoulders and pushed his red cape back behind him to better show the threadwork of his green tunic. "Besides- if no beast is going to see the back of your gown for your diadem, than no beast is going to notice me for their full stomachs!"

"Aesir, _every_ beast notices you," Cerys corrected him and together they watched the dancers. At the end of the song, creatures around the hall clapped for their efforts and the king yelled up for a walzma to be played.

Without delay, the drummers started their steady beats of their mallets on the tubs' stretched canvas, setting a steady tempo for the song while other instruments joined in time to the beats. Lutes, dulcians, schalmei, sacbuts, rebecs, viols, and muted cornetts sounded from the musicians' balcony, playing loud and strong to the tune of Eutrusia's customary dance. The nobles all formed a long line in the center of the hall; ladies on the right and lords on the left before the dais.

"Mother is such a good dancer," Cerys said wistfully as she watched the king and queen move through the steps of the dance. "Don't you think, Aesir?"

"Yes," Aesir agreed with a smile. "But she's not as good as you."

Cerys blushed at the compliment and gave a slight start when Aesir's paw brushed against the bodice of her gown before laying it over hers where they were clasped just below her chest. Her eyes flew to his and he grinned down at her.

"Shall we?" he smirked and pulled one of her paws free from its position. "It looks like there is room for one more pairing."

"Aesir, we can't!" Cerys chided him and resisted his initial pull on her arm. "It's a dance for married couples. It's tradition…"

"Oh, hang tradition," the prince scoffed and rolled his eyes to make her smile. "It's my feast and if I want to dance a walzma, by the 'Gates, I'm going to bloody well dance a walzma!"

"Language, Your Highness!" she laughed and picked up the skirts of her long gown in her left paw to follow him to the other dancers. "Though I must confess my gown may not cooperate with the movements of this dance- the train is long and I may trip and fall!"

"Then I will have to catch you," Aesir affirmed as the two royals took up their places in the line and waited with large smiles while the music revolved for another cycle. The prince was vaguely aware of the whispers coming from the sides of the hall from the onlookers and several of the dancers gave them surprised glances out of the corners of their eyes; one syr even miss-stepped and nearly bumped into Valina causing Matthias to twist his head slightly at the source of disturbance. Seeing his son and adoptive daughter standing in their rows, he gaped slightly before turning back to his wife with a tight lipped expression. The king gave the barest of flicks to the left with his head and widened his eyes in a _do something about your son_ sort of manner. Valina gazed down the aisle of beasts and bit her lip to hide her smile. There was nothing she could do without causing more of a fuss than the whispers fluttering around them were already.

The music drawled slightly before the exchange and she curtsied deep to her lord and husband. "What will be, will be, Matthias," she whispered to him as she placed her right paw in his so he may rise her up. "It's a traditional dance."

"For lovers," the king breathed, bowing over her paw and kissing the single emerald ring on her finger. "The motions are… evocative."

"Evocative!" Valina said with the smallest peal of laughter. "The dancers barely touch, my lord."

Matthias leered at his queen as she stepped back from him to begin the dance anew. "Exactly," he said plainly. "And every time you do, it drives you mad to touch again."

Valina just smiled coyly and brought her paws up before her, their palms open to his as both monarchs moved forward with the cue of the music. For a brief moment they stood with their paws parallel, but not touching and their bodies warm from the exercise.

"Valina," Matthias mumbled and fought the urge to snatch her to his body and kiss her as he had to this very dance on their wedding night.

"Shh, Matthias," she hushed him and glanced down the row to where Aesir and Cerys stood in a similar pose. The rebecs and viols took up their times with the drums again and the ladies of the dance slipped shallow curtsies to their partners, their faces all turned to the right as they cast down their heads and eyes in their dip. When they arose, the males inclined their heads towards them with a tilted to the left before each stretched up to the full height for the steps to begin.

With the beat of the drums, the dancers moved. Forward, back, forward back- four times the drew close then receded, and on the fifth strike the partners twisted away from one another towards the dais, their arms and backs of their paws lightly brushing each other, stepping back and then repeating the motion in the other direction. Coming to center once more, they moved forward and back two more times, yet on the third count, touched palms to palms, intertwining fingers and stepping beside one another with their arms arched above them. The dancers paused for a beat at the center, creating a momentary line of colour and sparkling gems in the torchlight before continuing the change of sides. They moved back with the beat for a single count, then with their paws still clasped, made the exchange again on opposite sides to complete the circle before returning to their starting positions once more.

Reluctantly, Aesir released Cerys's paws and resumed the beginning steps of the walzma again. Twice more they repeated the motions of the dance, each time he found it harder to let go of her; after the third recurrence, the dancers turned to face the dais, the males holding their ladies' paws aloft as they moved forward and back to the drums like the waves of the sea. On the sixth step, Aesir and Cerys pulled away slightly, bowing to the sides and arching their free paws to the crowds for a count, then bringing them up to meet their already joined paws.

One step forward; one step backwards they led the other nobles at the head of the column for four more beats, before twisting in to face each other and continuing the swaying motion with nothing between them now their paws were raised. The prince closed his eyes and fought the images in his mind as he moved with the suggestive steps of the dance. On the eighth beat, the cornetts sounded and the pairings stepped away from each other to create a tunnel. One by one the couples proceeded through the archway of arms and as each one passed beneath them, the males stepped back in a bow while the females twirled backwards into a quick curtsy, bobbing back up and holding their partners paws again. When it was Aesir and Cerys's turn to enter the channel, they crossed their arms over one another and clasped each other's paws in front, sashaying through the line and emerging to the rumbling drummed ending. A single viol recounted the last few cords of the song to the drumbeats as the pairings bowed and curtsied to one another in finale.

"I can't believe I didn't trip!" Cerys gasped as she took Aesir's offered paw to lead her back to the dais. "I almost didn't remember what to do with the turns!"

"You're not supposed to remember yet," Matthias' stern voice whispered behind them and caused them both to turn around. Cerys felt her face crimson at his reprimanding tone and she unconsciously moved closer to Aesir. The motion was not lost to the king's eyes and he cleared his throat to correct their actions. "Cerys, your mother wants a word with you."

"Yes, Father," she said dutifully and dipped him a quick curtsy, picking up her skirts in a fluid motion and gliding back towards the queen. Aesir was silent as she left, watching the flow of her long gown and the sway of the pearl and amethyst strand centering the deep 'v' to the back of her dress.

"Aesir?" Matthias chimed, breaking his son's stares. "Aesir, how much wine have you drunk this evening?"

"Not much, why?" he replied with a puzzled expression on his face.

"I was just wondering what would have led you to dance a walzma."

"It's Eutrusian dance, Father."

"With Cerys?"

Aesir stuttered for a moment before settling on his words. "Father, it was just a dance."

"Hmm," the king mused and went to walk away. "Aesir, what did you call me just now?" Matthias questioned over his shoulder as he drew parallel with his son.

"Uh, Father?" Aesir responded with one brow raised.

"And Cerys?" pressed the monarch. "What was her salutation to me when she departed our little discussion?"

"Father."

"Exactly," the king said firmly and gave him a stern gaze. "You two may not be blood Aesir, but you were raised together. Whatever these feelings are you harbour for her, you must dismiss them and quickly. Your actions are becoming blatant and if I can see them, so can others. Check your heart and think with your head."

Aesir let out a frustrated sigh. "I am fighting them, Father."

"Not strong enough," Matthias grumbled and nodded towards a gathering of nobles that called his name. "I'm serious, Aesir. Cerys is already be…"

"Behold the Veils of Vilcanor!" a boisterous voice sounded over the hubbub of the Feasting Hall. The prince turned at the unfamiliar sound to see hedgehog in a white and green frock standing in the center of the room. Holding his paws above his head in a grand gesture to the rafters he started moving to a foreign tone like a snake weaving his head back and forth assessing its prey. All at once the strange music halted and he stopped with it, holding perfectly still until suddenly he leaped in the air, flipping with a loud _hey!_ and tumbling to the furious strumming of an oud to rise effortless to his footpaws in front of the king and prince.

"Your Excellencies," he proclaimed with a bow of practiced flare. "With your permission we would like to begin tonight's entertainment."

Matthias gave a regal nod and gestured the beast back onto the floor.

"Father, what are the _Veils of Vilcanor?"_ Aesir questioned as the other nobles looked around anxiously at one another and hurriedly took their seats.

"A travelling troupe of magicians and performers who happened upon Aurelius while you were gone," Matthias chortled and held out a paw for Valina to grasp as she approached. "They are apparently quite good."

Aesir gave a little shrug and went to follow his parents back to the dais when he caught sight of Cerys standing with a group of other noble ladies, laughing and swaying to the exotic music in a jest; but to the prince there was nothing jesting about the way her hips moved in perfect time to the mijwiz and riqq.

Setting his jaw against his rising desire, Aesir growled inwardly at his thoughts and turned from his family's seats. He made his way through the revelry, finding himself at a table occupied by his lieutenants and officers of the Guard whom he had invited to the celebration.

"What's all the fuss about, Your Highness?" Loukin asked once their initial greetings were done and Aesir commandeered a place between otter and Lieutenant Olan.

"A travelling troupe apparently," Aesir informed them. "They're just going to give us a bit of a show."

"Where are they from, sire?" Klein said as he held a watchful eye on the curtain moving at the back of the room. "Have they been searched?"

"You know as much as I do!" Aesir laughed. "The king has organized it, so I am sure they have been patted down."

"And who supervised it if we're all here?" Klein mumbled under his breath and nodded to the others at their table. Loukin squared his shoulders slightly and Syr Donovan excused himself to move closer to the royals' dais.

"Stop worrying, Klein!" Olan guffawed and clapped Aesir on the back. "They would have been searched at the gates." Leaning to the side he waved over a serving beast carrying a tray of ale cups. Taking tankards from the server, Olan distributed them amongst the others of their table and clanked mugs with Aesir. "To your health, Highness!"

Aesir laughed and took a drink of the cool ale. The crisp tang tingled his tongue and it left an almost chalky taste in his mouth which begged to be rinsed down with more. Taking another dreg from his cup, he gulped down the liquid greedily. The drink was both refreshing and drying at the same time and before the prince knew it, he had consumed another two mugs.

"Another drink for the prince!" Loukin called merrily to the drink pourer behind them. "We can't have t' Red Prince be a mug shy!"

Aesir snorted and slapped the otter on the back with his free paw. "Nor my shieldbeast!" Aesir called. "Where's the ale? Better yet- bring us a keg!"

"Now, we're talking!" Olan shouted and spun round in his seat to give the table a hearty rap. "Kegra can sit her wood bottom right here in front of me."

"You've named the keg?" Aesir jested.

"'Course, sire," the squirrel snorted as if the idea of _not _naming the barrel was absurd. "If you're going to be in a long term relationship, you've got to know her name!"

The Guards bantered for a few moments until an eerie sound of a horn bayed out in a single note, signalling the beginning of the evening's entertainment. Out from behind the curtain a quartet of lithe squirrelmaids twisted and twirled to the sounds of the resumed music, their slim outfits of purple and pink silk and their veils so only their eyes were visible on their faces and heavy silver tail-rings bedecked with glittering amethysts and tourmaline. Olan's jaw dropped and he leaned forward in his chair.

"Olan!" Klein chuckled and caught his friend by the back of the collar as he went to stand. "Sit down…"

"I don't think we need to worry about assassins, Your Highness," the squirrel lieutenant breathed loudly. "There's no way they could fit a knife under those clothes!"

The others around them laughed and even a few younger nobles within hearing range nodded and tipped their mugs to the gaping beast in agreement.

"Sometimes an empty sheath is more dangerous than the blade," Klein said knowingly and Olan rapped his claws on the tabletop.

"Right!" he smirked. "Because an empty one needs to be filled!" and gave the prince a nudge with his elbow. "Am I right, Your Highness?"

"Whatever ya say, Olan!" Aesir scoffed out with a slight slur and accepted another frothy mug from Loukin. "Huzzah!" he shouted when tumblers bounded from behind the curtain as well, flipping and rolling in time to the music. Gasps went up from the crowds as they performed their acts in an array of colours and glistening gems and silver. Glancing up at the dais, Aesir saw his mother whispering to his father with a slight scowl on her face. Matthias laughed and grabbed her paw to kiss it before she could pull it away in attempt to ease her disapproval.

The company leader saw the motion and clap of his paws, a muscular otter leap into a pawstand and walked without flaw across the hall to the base of the steps. Dropping into a roll, the beast curled under the immediately crossed spears from the guards, rising into a kneeling position with two separate bouquets of lilies in either paw. Bowing his head, he stretched them out to both the queen and princess, letting them take the flowers gently before rolling backwards under the spear shafts again and onto his paws to resume his routine. Aesir breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Valina's features soften slightly at the gesture as she settled the offering in the crook of her arm.

The performance carried out through the remainder of the evening peeking every beast's interest at one time or another. There were dancers and acrobats, musicians and singers, magicians and actors carrying out short dramatic pieces. During breaks, cheers were sent up to the king for funding the entertainment, praising him for his choice of troupe. The hour was late, drink running dry and speeches were slurred together with mumbled words known only to the speaker when the drummers beating a steady rhythm with the mijwiz and riqq, twisting a seductive tune to the rafters and shadows of subconscious thoughts.

An ottermaid glided into the center of the hall, skimming the air with an upturned paw to the right before jerking her left footpaw up to force a body spin, bracing it wide and making a similar gesture left and repeating the twirl. Stomping both footpaws wide, she made a perfect clockwise gyrating with her upper body, stopping at the apex and circling her right arm out to reveal a hidden cloak and then her left to display the other half.

"By the Seasons- would you look at her?" Loukin groaned beside Aesir and the prince and Olan laughed heartily at the fighter's torment.

"An' yous were gettin' all shorts 'n like wit me when I's says t' same thing!" Olan garbled and took another gulp of his drink. "We's gots married too young, Lou-kin."

"You got married because you couldn't keep you belt cinched," Klein hissed at him and snatched the cup away from the lieutenant. "Not like it changed you much-"

"'N why should it?" Olan sniped and made a feeble attempt to grab the mug back. "Oi! Klein, gives me drink back," he demanded and blinked furiously at the mouse. "All of yous."

"All of me?" Klein chortled. "Right. Looks like I'll be carrying you home tonight."

"Nonsense and fl-luff-fa!" the squirrel replied. "I c'n walk me-self…"

"We'll see about that," the mouse sniggered and grabbed a bowl of half eaten breads from a passing servant carrying a large tray of dirty dishes and left over meals.

"Beggin' yar pardon, Lieutenant," the young lad said. "Those vittles been picked at."

"It's alright," Klein chuckled and tossed the bowl down on the table in front of Olan. "He won't know the difference," he added with a wink and gave the creature a tiny shove to get him on his way again.

Aesir listened to the two chatter back and for, his own mind coming to revelation that his condition was not so far off from Olan's if he chose to speak. Taking one last drink of his ale, the prince put it down on the table, waving a bit as he turned on his chair.

"Are you alright, Your Highness?" Loukin asked as Aesir muffled up a belch.

"I's f-fi… ahem! I'm fi-ine," he managed to grumble out with all the grace of an inexperienced drunkard. Giving his head a shake, the prince looked back up at the dais where his father sat alone on his throne, conversing lightly with Baron Elrad who stood attentively by his sovereign. The court had already farewelled the queen and princess along with most of the noble ladies at the tolling of the twelfth bell and now as they closed in on the second, Aesir could see the weariness in his father's expression, but his resilience to stay until the end. The prince gave Matthias a tilted smile when the king noticed his gaze and tipped his goblet to him in recognition. Aesir placed his paw over his heart and went bowed his head respectfully when the ottermaid whipped violently in a circle, screeching a call to the stars before clasping both paws above her head and thrusting them downwards in a stabbing motion. Aesir body tensed as a puff of blue and green smoke erupted at her footpaws and the drummers rolled their beats together while she flapped the cape about her body, spinning downwards until she was below the smoke and out of sight. Two quick moments the smoke cleared and all that was left was her cloak upon the flagstones.

"Amazing!" Loukin laughed and pounded his paws together in applause. "Did you see that- she vanished!"

"In'redible," Aesir elided, willing his eyes to focus on singular cape discarded on the ground. Four times he blink before he saw it move. Slowly at first the fabric rippled, its blue satin sheen mirroring the waves of an ocean, rolling faster and faster with the drums until yet another cloud of thick smoke bubbled from under the folds, hiding the cloth from all onlookers. Everybeast was silent throughout the entire hall; all were completely captivated as the blue silk snaked upwards, winding and bending with the swirls. Giving a final twist, the cape flapped down to reveal a mousemaid in a black organza skirt glittering with silver threadwork and strands of beads and coin-like rounds hanging from her waist. Her midsection was bare, causing many low whistles and hoots from the lords, and her upper body was completely covered with the same black material which curled around her neck and over her head. Like her squirrelmaid counterparts, the only thing visible of the maid's face was her eyes which had been outlined with heavy applications of coal and silver fleck.

"Oh-ho-ho! What's do we 'ave 'ere," Olan snickered with a mouthful of bread and looked at Aesir's gaping face. Sloppily brushing the prince's tunic flat, the squirrel straightened his state collar, muttering incoherent advice about swordplay and ear licks that were drowned out in hammering sound of the mouse's own rushing blood.

A mijwiz broke the anticipation like a hammer on glass and the maid twined her paws up over her head and gave each of her hips a flick to the sound of a riqq as she began her own routine of combined dance and acrobatics. Gracefully she weaved about the floor, lasciviously curling her body and twisting it into knots before cartwheeling out of it without hesitation. Around her waist the silvered rounds jingled and jangled teasing the eyes with flashes of light and ensuring attention to their ease of motion forward and back, side to side. Even her barest of movements were betrayed by the dangles and when the maid tormented the crowd by pretending to execute a pawstand, rising just high enough that her skirts started to fall downward, she tumbled forward to the groans of the onlookers. Bounding to her footpaws in a fluid motion her head coverings fell to the back of her shoulders into a shimmering silver cape and her long chestnut coloured headfur toppled loose to her mid back.

All around Aesir, the nobles watched with calculated appreciation; this was a performer that could be commended for such attributes as artistry, execution and _other assumed talents_ to be thought and not said.

The music quickened, the drums hurried their pace and the maiden worked her way to the opposite side of the Feasting Hall, playing to the crowd as she went. Abruptly, she turned towards Aesir and sprinted, doing three cartwheels and springing into a double flip through the air; landing softly and floating down into a forward split at the prince's footpaws.

Aesir looked down at her in awe as cheers for her routine thundered from the gathering and the troupe's hedgehog announcer strode into the center to proclaim the entertainment concluded. Without thinking, Aesir extended his paw to her to aid her rise and smiled slightly when she winked at him. She was different than the other maids- confident and bold emulated from her when she gave him a quick curtsy and stepped away to return to her fellow beasts. Slowly, she walked away from him, glancing over her shoulder and giving him another wink before disappearing into the crowd.

"I's thinks our Captain 'ere 'as a bit o' a fan there," Olan mused and clapped Aesir on the shoulder. "Ne'er seen a beastie bend 'n half like that- might makes fer an interesting feature…"

"Shh, Olan," Klein shushed him and picked the squirrel's paw up off the prince's shoulder. "Keep your addlebrained ideas to yourself."

"What?" Olan hissed at his friend. "He's old enough to dip a wick."

Loukin peeped around behind the still standing prince. "And we all know what that maid will be thinking."

"Yeah," Olan huffed and mumbled under his breath. "A promise o' a g'night ahead."

Gradually, the creatures started making their departures to their feathered beds once King Matthias retired for the evening. As predicted Klein had to shoulder his drunken friend home and promised the prince Olan would be the first beast to the Tilt Grounds in the morning.

Aesir hung back with a few of the nobles of his acquaintance; ones who had resided in Vasilis as wards of the crown and other sons from notable lords throughout the kingdom. Eventually, they too turned in for the night and Aesir found himself one of the very sparse nobility still in the Feasting Hall. Around him servants bustled about with their cleaning and a pawful of Guards went around helping passed out creatures back to their lodgings. Tables were scrapped down and buckets of soapy water tossed over them for a scrub while the floor was swept and mobbed.

The prince slumped down into a chair and rubbed his eyes with his left paw, trying to get his bearings. He had never felt so drunk before that he couldn't focus his eyes, but then he had never drank that much ale before. Lots of wine, but not much ale. Twice he tried to get up to go to his chamber, but felt the hall spin around him and he promptly sat down again. Drinking had helped forget his feelings for Cerys, but it had come at a hefty price.

"You be needin' 'elp ta git ta your room, Your High-ness," a voice chuckled behind him. Aesir spun on his seat to view the mousemaid from the finale walking up to him wearing a long robe with delicate silver embroidery.

"I'll be a'ight inna moment," Aesir blabbered out, yanking a chair out beside him and tapping the seat in silent command. The maid giggled and sat down on the bench opposite Aesir as the prince adjusted into a more regal position. Forcing himself to sit upright and assert his station, Aesir smiled when he noticed her eyeing him with as much eagerness as he beheld her in not a bell ago.

"What is your name?" he asked in a more princely tone.

"Asha," replied the maid, the corners of her mouth curling into a smile. "I be askin' you ta same t'ing, 'cept ev'y beast knows of t' Red Prince."

"Is that so," Aesir mused and reached back for his previously abandoned ale mug, taking another drink as if he believed it would help him focus his eyes.

"Aye," Asha said softly. Switching to the seat beside Aesir, she forwardly touched him on the chest and felt the richness of his tunic, weaving his gold collar through her fingers to catch the rubies in the torchlight.

"They be real jew-els, sire?" she asked. "I ne'er seen a real gem afore?"

"You were covered in them," Aesir countered and enjoyed her touches. "I saw you."

"Fakes," she whispered. "They be fakes t' ones we wear."

While she spoke, Asha drew a line straight down his chest with her forefinger and going shamelessly low before slowly pulling it back up and twirled it in a circle in the center of his chest. Through her motions, she watched and bit her lip suggestively.

"Now, that was just mean," the prince moaned at her touch.

"I did not mean t' offend, Your High-ness," Asha said slyly. "I'll leave."

As the maid stood to leave, Aesir stretched his footpaw across the space, blocking her path. Asha stared at his blockage for a moment before giving him a carnal glare.

"The only way you're leaving is with me," Aesir slurred and nodded his head towards the corridor leading to western wing of the palace; towards the royal apartments, towards his private chambers. His mind was fuzzy against his judgements and only one thought, one need was able to burst through his drunken haze.

Asha smiled at him and dipped into a quick curtsy. Picking up her skirts, she lifted one footpaw over Aesir's leg and straddled him. Leaning into his ear, she spoke as soft as warm honey,

"As you command, sire."

Aesir grinned triumphantly as she pulled away and started walking towards the door. The prince stayed seated for her retreat, appreciating the sway of her hips and letting his blood race at their rhythmic movement.

"Are you comin', Your High-ness?" Asha questioned when she reached the door and noticed he wasn't following her.

"Not for a while yet," Aesir chuckled under his breath and downed the contents of his mug before throwing it aside before stumbling off towards her and the promise of an exciting night in his chamber.


	17. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

Aesir moaned at the distant sound of fisted paws pounding on his door.

"Your Highness?" a loud voice emulated from the outside his chambers. "Your Highness?"

"Sleeping," Aesir murmured under his breath and rolled over to snuggle deeper into his bed of… cold rock. Batting the ground with his paw, the prince felt about the flagstones and mortar before slapping a puddle of liquid with his paw and hitting an object that rolled away from his touch.

_Bang, Bang._ "Erm, sire? You awake in there - it's well past dawn…"

With a pitiful groan, Aesir opened his eyes slightly to the rush of sunlight blinding his sight. Shielding his face with his paw, he was able to squint enough to see the white stones of his terrace and the marbled columned railing running around its perimeter.

"Why am I on the balcony," he grumbled out and forced himself into a sitting position.

_Bang. Bang. Bang._ At the third set of thumps, Aesir knew it was not a rapping at his door causing the sound, but blood beating his veins against his skull. Raising both his paws to cradle his head, the prince wrinkled his nose at the strong smell of currant wine and looking at his palm saw the liquid dripping from his claw tips.

"What in the Seasons…" he began and peered down at the floor beside him where a silver chalice lay tipped on its side and a small pool of red wine centered an array of splattered dots drying in the southern sun to stain the marble. "What - ahh..." Aesir growled at himself and held his head against the new sensation of an axe head driving straight down the top of his cranium.

Running his clean paw over his face, the prince held his lips in subconscious preparation as he breathed deeply through his nose and puffed out hot, sour air from his mouth.

"Your Highness?" a voice called from his chamber and he heard the gentle creek of his door open wide and the rustle of beasts entering. Immediately, questions littered the air.

"Great 'Gates, Klein- where is he?"

"What happened in here?"

"Why is the furniture moved?"

"Your Highness- _Prince Aesir?"_

"Stop shouting," Aesir whined and moved his paws to hold his ears against the sounds aggravating his already paining head. "Why are all you yelling…?"

At the sound of his voice, six heads popped out from draperies.

"Ah, so it was true," Loukin snickered at the sight of their prince. Giving Klein a wink he said. "Guess I won the bet, huh?"

"What's true?" the prince questioned. "What bet? Why am I on the balcony? Why?"

"Not remembering much about last night, Your Highness?" Klein stated and observed Aesir's state of apparel had not change since the feast apart from his discarded red cloak, state collar and his…

"Tipper- did you see the Etifedd's coronet by his cape?" Klein snapped and looked at the prince's pawbeasts.

"Come to think of it-" he mused. "No lieutenant- I didn't."

"Hellsgates!" Klein swore. "Tipper, search the chamber for it and you two-" he said pointing at Aesir's other two servants, "clean up the mess in there before any advisors think about making an appearance. No doubt they'll be along shortly."

As the three pawbeasts scurried to their orders, the lieutenant continued, "Loukin, let's help Prince Aesir up."

"What'll I do, chaps?" a young hare private named Rian chirped up. "I say I can help, wot!"

"Just stay out of the way, Rian," Klein ordered and the hare straightened up to attention while he awaited his next orders.

"Hares," Loukin chuckled at the sight of the young private. "Practically busting at the keel to be up here in the royals' chambers, yet he'd stand there all day if y'made him!"

"Why are you all here?" Aesir grumbled out as the two approached him.

"Missed you on the Tilt this morning, Your Highness," Loukin winked. "Thought we'd come and make sure you were still alive!"

"Pleasant time last night after we left, Your Highness?" Klein smirked at Aesir rocking on his bottom.

"I, uh…" he managed to answer before letting out a rumbling belch.

"Well, a mite more than that dancin' maid did," Loukin laughed and knelt beside the prince. "She was mighty upset she didn't get to enjoy you when she got back to the hall!"

"How do you know I… I mean, she," Aesir stumbled out before flushing slightly as the otter's words started sinking in. "You mean I didn't-"

"Well you see, Your Highness," Klein said with a calculated tone. "It seems you were unable to perform."

Aesir crimsoned redder than his battle cloak and gaped at the two Guards, his astonishment momentarily pushing aside the nauseous feeling starting to take hold of his body.

"Wh-what?" he stuttered out and swallowed a large lump of pride and bile. What did they mean he wasn't able to perform? He vaguely remembered bringing Asha to his chamber, pouring them wine and showing her the sea from his balcony. He recalled a vague image of their kiss, the faint feeling of her paws touching him and then… it all was a black blur. Surely, he'd been able to- he had to have…

"Ah, don't scare our prince like that, Klein," Loukin chortled and clapped Aesir on the back none too gently before adding, "You passed out before you two could get to anything like that, Your Highness."

"I passed out?"

"Aye!" the otter said. "One sip of wine and she said y' crumpled to the floor like a butterfly in a windstorm!"

"You talked to her?" Aesir questioned, resuming his sorry state of bodily pain and dizziness. "You talked to - to Asha?"

"No. I was helping some poor lady pull her gallant syr up to their chambers when that maid stormed passed looking for a way out. Oh, she was mutterin' curses at you that was for sure!"

Half chuckling, half groaning, Aesir lowered himself back down onto the hard surface. He must have passed out on his balcony and she left him where he fell.

"You're mighty lucky, Your Highness," Klein said carefully, not wanting to scold the young prince, but couldn't help the father in him coming out. "She doesn't seem to have taken anything…"

As if on cue, Tipper popped his head out from around the curtain. "Er- Lieutenant Klein? We have a problem."

"What problem?"

"Erm, you see," the squirrel started. "Well, I found the Etifedd's coronet on the bed easy enough, but, erm…"

"Just spit it out, Tipper," Klein commanded and the pawbeast simply held up Aesir's state collar.

"Didn't this have rubies on it last night?"

"It sure as hell did!" Klein growled and Aesir raised his squinted eyes briefly to view the gemless gold wreath before groaning and putting his head back in his paws for more than one reason.

"Rian!" Klein barked and the hare sprain forward. "Go to Syr Donovan and Lieutenant Condor- tell them to find these _Veils of Vilcanor_ and have them arrest this- Asha- for theft of crown jewels."

"Yes, Sirrah!" the hare said and through his commanding officer a salute before dashing out of the prince's chambers.

"This just keeps getting better," Aesir sighed. "My head feels like it got smashed by a bola, I'm humiliated and I've been robbed…"

"Welcome to the wonderful world of ale, Highness," Klein said and tried to hold in a laugh. "Not every creature can be a champion of cups like Olan."

"If I feel like this, I can't imagine he's even breathing."

"Breathing and already at the Tilt, sire," Loukin winked. "Like the lieutenant said, Olan is a champion."

"Come on, Prince Aesir," Klein affirmed, holding out his paw to the suffering royal. "Up you get- I'm sure you've got a full day ahead."

Aesir nodded and tried remembering the day's agenda, but his mind cramped tighter the more he thought and the higher he rose on his footpaws. Swaying once he was upright, the prince grabbed onto Loukin's shoulder in attempt to stop his wavering.

"Do either of you have some water?" Aesir asked, desperately wanting to rinse the sour taste of stale ale and wine from his mouth.

"You have any water and you'll-" Loukin began, but stopped as Aesir pitched his upper body forward and vomited on floor at Loukin's footpaws. "- retch."

The prince stumbled backwards and Klein grabbed him by the tunic to lead him into his chamber. "Alright, Loukin," the lieutenant laughed. "Time to get this mouse to bed."

"Why is everything spinning?" Aesir moaned when Loukin pulled his soiled tunic and shirt off him and Klein helped him onto the feather mattress. Leaning back against the pillows, he murmured, "Why is everything so bright?"

"Go to sleep, Your Highness," Klein simpered.

"I can't sleep," Aesir argued. "I have to meet my f… fa…"

Loukin gave a sharp whistle and out of nowhere a pawbeast tossed him a bucket; in one fluid motion the otter caught it and slid the pail across the floor to the bedside just as Aesir leaned over to relieve his stomach of its contents again.

"I don't think you'll be meeting with any beast until tomorrow, sire," Klein informed him as Aesir pulled the silk sheets over himself in misery. "Like I said- go to sleep."

The prince's stomach responded for him.

"Tipper- best leave the clean up until later," Loukin jested. "Might as well scrub it down all in one go when he's done learning his lesson!"

"We'll just organize tidy it up a bit," Tipper asserted and pulled a chair back across the floor with a spine-tingling screech.

"Noise-" groaned the sheets and pillows of the canopied bed. "No noise. No light. Go."

The group shared a chuckle and left the prince's chamber, Aesir mumbling to himself as the door latch clicked shut,

"Welcome the dark; beware of the light."

* * *

"Are you going to make it?" the king said plainly as he twisted back on the stairs to glance at his son leaning against the cool stone wall a flight below him. Aesir's eyes were closed and his mouth slightly agape as if the prince did not know if air would continue to go down his throat or if something was going to come back up… again.

"Aesir?"

"I jus' need a mom-mo-moment," he stuttered painfully.

"We don't have time for a moment, son," Matthias chuckled and tapped his footpaw impatiently. "I said we needed to be at the prophets by dawn and it's almost midday- I let you sleep in as it is!"

"You should have left me sleeping," Aesir groaned and rubbed his pounding skull. _You should have just let me die in bed…_

"And you should not have drank so much last night," his father retorted, wagging a pointed claw at the suffering beast. "You think because you win a battle you can swallow ale with the best of them? I knew what was happening the moment you joined your lieutenants at the tables."

"So, why didn't you stop me?" Aesir moaned and slapped his paw over his mouth at a threatening belch. Once the feeling receded, the prince inhaled deeply through his nose, willing his body to find some sort of strength, before exhaling in a slow measured pace.

"And miss this?" Matthias smiled with comical cruelty. "I warned you when you had your first goblet of wine to not overindulge. Now you know why."

"S'not fair," Aesir mumbled and righted himself up again to continue ascending the stairs. "You should have reminded me."

"Oh, now Aesir would you have listened?" the king laughed, clapping his son lightly on the shoulder as he drew up beside him. "Sometimes these lessons are better learned in practice than in lecture." Aesir snorted his response and Matthias held in another bolt of laughter. "Don't be sore, son; my father taught me the same way, as has every father taught their sons over the seasons. Sometimes we have to let you trip on your own to see how well you pick yourself up after a fall."

"And how am I doing?" Aesir questioned out of habit than actual interest.

"I'll decide that when the day is through," sniggered his father. "You have this meeting to get through and then one with the council. Not to mention your regular duties and… were you not to train with the Guard this morning?"

The prince grimaced at the reminder and rubbed the back of his neck. "I was, but I, well, seeing as myself and most of the Guard are in the same condition, Syr Donovan thought it best we all recover today."

"I suppose that is all he could do under the circumstances," observed the king and gave his son a stern reprimanding glare. "I hope you've learned your lesson, Aesir. You didn't outwardly make a fool of yourself at the feast, but your private actions were, are, inexcusable. What do you mean taking a maid you don't know to your chambers? The theft aside- what were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," he admitted. "I've already told you I'm… Father, I've already apologized to you for my actions."

"Thankfully _lack of action,"_ Matthias snorted. "Aesir, do you realize what could have happened had you gone through with it? Great Seasons, son- what if you got her with child?"

The prince blinked at his father with a blank expression. "You told me how to be careful. You… well, you've told me before I could if I… that is if I ever wanted to -"

"Yes, with a maid within palace walls that we could watch closely and hush up if need be," Matthias countered. "Imagine the mess you would be in if seasons down the road a mouselet comes knocking on the door claiming to be your offspring? Not mention if it is a male? Aesir- he'd have cause to claim the throne and Seasons help you if some disgruntled nobles backed him. You'd have a civil war on your paws just because you didn't think with the right head!"

"I know that, Father," Aesir sighed, flapping his paws down against his sides. "I'm sorry."

"I suppose you learnt your lesson." Matthias couldn't help feel his frustration melt slightly as he watched Aesir turning green again. "Or rather you _are learning it_. Don't let this happen again, Aesir."

"Trust me Father, I never want to feel like this again," he rasped out. "I'd take being run through the gut with a pike than endure this pounding in my skull again."

They continued their progress up another flight before Aesir spoke once more.

"Did they find her?"

"No," Matthias grumbled. "The troupe is gone as it would appear and the jewels of your forebeasts along with them."

Aesir grimaced at the sting. "Surely, some beast saw the company leave."

"Oh they did," Matthias sniped. "On a merchant ship set for the Isle of Oremere. It would seem the rubies this Asha maid pried out of your state collar bought the entire gaggle of players their passage."

"Is Admiral Daelahn going after them?"

"No. I called off the pursuit," the king informed him. "We may need all those loyal to us present for the next series of events and the Lord Admiral is a strong presence. I want to keep Daelahn close."

"So the jewels…"

"Can be replaced and no beast will know the difference. The few informed creatures have all been paid for silence." At Aesir's puzzled look he added, "Or would you rather we let the news out and you can hear the stories of how a dancing maid couldn't get one set of crown jewels to work so she took a different pair?"

"Silence is good," Aesir blurted out and flushed at the reminder of his failure. "How could I have passed out?"

"Because you drank your weight in wine and ale," Matthias grinned. "Son, no beast is able to _rise_ to the occasion under those circumstances." Though it was a mock, his father's words reassured Aesir enough that he was able to finally breathe out a sigh of relief.

The two royal mice eventually made it to the last flight of stairs in the barren northern tower of Vasilis. Barred at all servants, the stairwell was adorned with intricately laced cobwebs rivalling even the finest weavers in the kingdom. Small piles of dust softer than sifted flour collected in the corners while the air of countless seasons' wisdom hung amid the exposed timbers. Even in the soft light that filtered through the narrow windows, the tower commanded a sense of awe and wonderment; its silence demanded humbleness and serenity as each step they took both mice trod the same line as their ancestors.

"It is hard to believe this was once the Tower of the King," Matthias said, breaking the quietness between them. "To think these stairs would have once bustled with activity and light."

"I've never understood why they gave it up," Aesir confessed. "I know the tale, but it just doesn't make sense to me. All because a blind otter couldn't swim in the sea, they then put him in a tower. It makes no sense."

"Doron had moon blindness, son," corrected the king. "The scrolls tell us he was blinded by the light of the sun during the day, but could view the stars at night. The otter was born without a proper tail which made swimming for him difficult, and when coupled with his eyesight, made it almost impossible for him to live a normal life. Still, he went on to be an ensign to one of our first naval commanders, charting stars and coordinates from them. It was Doron who charted the stars response to lunar penumbra and the named the twelve seas of the sky. Your ancestor Maddoc gave him this tower as a gift for directing the fleet back to port after a gale blew them off course and they were seemingly lost at sea."

"So, he gave him the tallest tower- Vasilis' own royal apartments?"

"King Maddoc proclaimed the otter to name his price and Doron said he wanted to see nothing but the stars above him for the rest of his days. The northern tower is the tallest structure in Aurelius- being up here gave Doron the view he desired."

"And so began our astrologers," Aesir stated, pressing his paw to his forehead in attempt to fight pressure with pressure. "And then the prophets followed?"

"Their residency, yes," Matthias replied, silently relishing the conversation of history and lore with his son. It had been three seasons since they last talked about anything that was not to do with the direct ruling of the kingdom; three seasons since they spoke with consistent civility while in private.

"Were they really in so much danger that-"

"Ah, Your Majesty," a sage voice sounded above, interrupting the prince's question. Aesir eyes snapped to the top stairwell where an ancient looking squirrel stood with his arms held openly in front of him, his fur as white as the purest snow on the northern mountains. A green linen shroud draped about his body and was secured at the front of the mystic's left shoulder by a heavy silver clasp.

"We thought you would arrive at some point today," the prophet said, placing his right paw over his heart and inclining his head out of respect as the mice drew nearer. "And Prince Aesir, as well. We are honoured by your presence, Your Highness."

Matthias chortled at the phrase. "_At some point_- thank-you for putting it delicately, Celton."

"You knew we were coming?" Aesir asked pointedly. The Prophets of Eutrusia had always interested him, always had he hung on their words recounted by his father. Although it was not his first meeting with them, he was fascinated by how they gained their knowledge and wisdom.

"Yes, Your Highness," the squirrel replied and motioned them toward the silvered double doors. "We have been waiting for you since dawn."

The three beasts moved in into the entrance chamber; a long oval room with two closed doors on both sides and a spiral staircase in the center. Directly in front of them, an open archway drew the prince's attention; its translucent sheers billowing inwards towards them and then back into the chamber in a beckoning motion.

The prophet led them around the twisting marble steps and onto a covered terrace. Lounges and piles of feather pillows littered the floor and the walls were covered with hammered mirrors and silver strappings along the edgework. Everything was in muted tones of gray and white, warmed into gentle hues by the southern sun and the balmy sea breezes. The tinkling of chimes peppered the air with vibrations of sound and heavy incents smoldered and smoked in their vesseled stands.

Aesir's head spun at the smells of myrtle and laurel, exhaling loudly and lowering his head to regain some composure over his condition. He could hear his father conversing lightly with Celton, but instead of engaging in the topic, the prince rested his head in his right paw, trying to imagine everything was fine and when he opened his eyes again, the nausea would leave him and the axe splitting his head in two would magically vanish. Taking another deep breath, he started slightly at the feel of a soft touch on his left paw and a silver tumbler pressed into his fingers. The prince lifted his eyes slightly to view the kindly face of a white otter.

"Dravos," he breathed in greeting and cleared his throat against the constricted feeling to it.

"Drink," the mystic commanded. "It will calm your head."

Without hesitation, Aesir greedily gulped down the steel tasting liquid. Almost instantly his stomach calmed and he could open his eyes fully instead of holding them half shut in a painful squint. Letting out a sigh of relief for the second time that day, the prince smiled his thanks and handed the beaker back to the prophet.

"How did you know?"

"We have ears, Your Highness," Dravos chuckled as two other creatures joined them. "I can only guess by the music and laughter of last night what today would be like for you."

"Let us be seated," Celton announced and motioned to a rounded table of ebony wood centering the room; its high polished top waved the graining of the wood like the depths of time and space, like an entrance to the prophets' third eye itself.

"Aleris and Shirin have been scrying, sire," Celton informed Matthias, motioning to the two creatures that came in late; a golden coloured squirrel and another white otter. "We are trying to force a sight, but as of yet, nothing has come."

"We have strained our eye and muttered the incantations, Majesty," Aleris offered as they took their seats. "But all we can see is the Seasons' mists."

"We need not your sight at present," Matthias said simply. "We need your knowledge," he implored them, pulling the scroll from his tunic and rolling it flat on the table.

The four mystics leaned forward in their chairs and observed the parchment for a moment before Celton cupped his claws over the writing in a shield like fashion.

"How did you come by this, Your Majesty?"

"My father failed to destroy it before his death," the king relented. "I found it amongst his belongings."

"This is a powerful seeing," Celton stressed, breaking from his calm demeanour to exhibit a hint of frustration.

"None have seen it save myself and my son," Matthias countered with a nod to Aesir. "Please, we need answers from it. We need its guidance, its wisdom. The prince's path is still covered in the Seasons' mist you tell me and this is the only vision we have of my family."

"We had a vision for Prince Aesir," Celton argued. "He is to lead an army to battle. He will be victorious."

"But when, where and against whom?" Matthias pressed. "It was a wisp of a seeing, a blink of your eye. You yourself told me that, Celton."

"We were lucky to see it as it was, sire," the old prophet put in. "Blink or no, we were very fortunate to see it."

"Yes, and we can prepare for it with this," the king said firmly and tapped the bottom of the paper. "For you cannot tell me this was simply a betrothal vision. It contains warnings more pertinent than the Seasons blessing a union."

The four were quiet, staring at each other in silent discussion.

"Dravos, please ask Rigel to come down," Celton said softly with a nod towards the spiral stairs. "With the charts. It is time he was told."

The otter rose from his chair to do attend his task while the others waited in silence for his return. Once Dravos returned and resumed his seat, Celton lifted his paw from the writing and looked directly at Aesir as he spoke, his eyes never leaving that of the prince's;

"The moon shines brightest in the black of night,  
The sun flames red when the fight is right.  
The strength of the Fates will be born in two,  
While the Seasons' line begins anew."

"It foretells of a battle," Aleris stated, her golden fur shimmering in the sunlight. "It will be a bright moon, a moon to control the sea, to control the tides."

"And the dawn will host a red sun. A warning to those of impending fate, but a sign to let you know the fight is right- right to attack," Dravos carried on and tapped a hooked claw on the parchment. Looking at Aesir, the white otter nodded. "These will signal your course is true."

"My course?" Aesir gaped. "This is my father's prophesy- not mine…"

"King Matthias had his prophesy read long before you were even a glimmer in your mother's eye, young prince," Celton huffed comically. "I believe it was his twelfth season when his path was foreseen."

Matthias shifted in his seat as Aesir gave his father a hard stare. "Then this is-"

"A prophesy of your line," the wise squirrel advised them. "A prophesy of things to come- but not necessarily directed at one sole beast."

Both mice leaned over the parchment now, studying it and rereading script once thought deciphered.

"There is a warning," Shirin rasped out, her voice as hoarse as coat was white. "There are two born to the Fates' ilk."

"Two?" Matthias whispered. "Then the Fates have a protected line as well?"

"Not so much protected as informed, sire," Celton replied tapping the side of his head, his eyelids flickering as he strained his eyes in the corridors of his sight. "They are informed of what is to come and so their power grows. Beasts stand against then, but their bravery is weak. If pushed too far, they will fail.

"That is of course- until borders are crossed."

"Aesir," Matthias said and leaned back in his chair to observe his son. "Aesir will have to fight these beasts for he is of the union between Valina and I. He is the Warrior to stand for All."

The four prophets nodded in agreement before Shirin read the next lines with her quivering voice:

"Bring forth the Scroll,  
Bring forth the Sword,  
Bring forth the Warrior,  
To stand for All.  
From their union he will come to hail,  
Across the borders he will not fail.  
Mists will hide true purpose laid,  
Though heart and honour will not fade.  
Bring forth the Maiden,  
Bring forth the Prince,  
Bring forth their Son,  
Eutrusia's Red Prince."

"The Etifedd's purpose for Eutrusia is hidden from us," Aleris affirmed. "But he is named here three times. He will know challenges, but his heart and honour will hold him true to his course."

"It then talks of a battle again," Aesir said plainly. "Banners would mean an army- sands mean it takes place near a beach, but all the sands in Eutrusia are white not red."

"At the Battle of Wesrus, the sands were stained red from blood," the king added with a blank expression. "It talks of twin battles: The Uprising of Eurus and the Battle of Wesrus I led before peace resumed in Eutrusia."

"Is it?" Celton questioned, again looking directly at Aesir. "I am not so sure.

"Banners high and blood red sands,  
Twin battles carve a peaceful land.  
Let him grow, let him flourish.  
Let his heart grow strong then warish.  
Bring forth the Dagger,  
Bring forth the Shield,  
Bring forth the Sword,  
To ensure their Yield-"

"This is a foretelling of things to come for your line, sire, not yourself," Celton continued. "It was a strong prophesy, felt by more than one of us. And some of us saw more than others."

"Then who of my line is it for?" Matthias said in exasperation. "How much of it is for me, for Aesir… for his sons after him? Celton- we need to know!"

"Your Majesty," the seer said with calm serenity. "Anxious you are to know things we cannot control. The Fates decide our lines in life- they weave our pictures and decide our length of thread. We can only foretell of things to come when the gates are opened to us. Then and only then may be see the paths through the mists."

"What gates?" Aesir pondered aloud and all eyes turned in his direction. The prince had stayed relatively quiet throughout the conversation and his sudden interjection caught the others off guard. "I'm curious how you realize your visions," he added under the attention.

"When a beast is born, their thread is cast upon the Arras of Life by the Fates," Celton began. "There it is woven into the Seasons' tapestry- its life mingled with others and paths decided by the colours it progresses to."

"But their spool is kept behind closed gates," Dravos continued. "Its length and fortunes hidden and all the Seasons can do are weave the thread with whatever colour it is given."

"Then why the seeings?" Aesir asked pointedly. "If our fate is chosen for us, then what does it matter what will happen for it is already decided?"

"Because there is more than one place to weave the colours, Your Highness," Celton said. "The Seasons may not be able to change the life given to a creature, but they can change where their circumstances are placed and so alter the outcome of a beast's fate. An otter may be born blind to the sun," he mused and pointed to a bust of a slim otter holding an abacus and a spyglass across his chest, "but the Seasons may still grace his life with purpose."

"When a life is born, the Fates' open their gates to toss the thread upon the Arras," a new voice reiterated and the gathering turned to see a small group of short river otters collecting in the archway dressed in dark blue tunics trimmed with silver thread. A heavily stitched star was embroidered on the left sides of their high collars- signifying their station as Eutrusian astrologers. The oldest of the five stepped forward with a large roll of papyrus curled under his arm and he bowed to both the king and prince.

"We chart the stars and the moon at the time of the birth, drawing names from the seas of the sky for the newest royal," Rigel explained and gently laid the chart upon the table.

"Once the location of the gates is made and the name charted, we can enter the gates, Your Highness," Celton resumed his lecture. "We," he said motioning to his fellow prophets, "can then see the path the Fates have chosen for the youth."

"But you said my father's prophesy was made when he was twelve seasons old," Aesir said, trying to straighten all the information in his mind. "I know he thinks himself wise, but he wasn't born twelve!"

They all shared a chuckle at the prince's jest to his father and watched as Matthias gave his son a playful flick on his ear.

"If the stars and moon align in the same fashion and under the same season, the gates will appear again," Celton nodded to Matthias. "The king was born under a waning moon during the winter solstice. Luckily for us, we have been able to see His Majesty's path on more than one occasion."

"And mine?" Aesir pressed.

At that they were silent.

"We have never been able to see your path, Your Highness," Celton said finally.

"But you would have when I was born," refuted the prince. "The astrologers found my name- they would have plotted the gates… you would have been able to see _something."_

"Prince Aesir," the senior astrologer interrupted and directed everybeasts' attention to the star chart now covering the ebony table. "Your stars were not as easy to read as others. You see, Your Highness, you were born under an Elderstar."

"A what?" Aesir gaped and gave a puzzled look to his father. The king sat in his chair, expressionless to the words and staring straight at the chart; his eyes glazed over as if remembering conversations of long ago. "What's an Elderstar?" the prince muttered out of the side of his mouth.

"An Elderstar is when the moon is a crescent, shaped upwards towards the domain of the Seasons, while the two stars wreath the night sky above it. They are so bright all other stars veil their eyes to their brilliance."

The otter tapped a claw on the papyrus to a painted depiction of a darkened sky and the three cosmic symbols portrayed as described.

"Welcome the dark, beware of the light," Aesir whispered the line of the prophesy. No beast seemed to hear him, but for Celton, who stared unblinking at the prince.

"You see, Highness," Rigel affirmed. "By the time we could chart your stars, the gates were closed and the prophets could not see your path."

"And it has never happened since," Aesir stated, leaning back in his chair. "This- Elderstar- has never occurred since my birth?"

Dravos shook his head. "No."

"Do not despair, Prince Aesir," Celton put in quickly at the deflated look to the royal mouse's eyes. "The Elderstar will come again- that much has been foretold and until then, the Seasons shroud you in mist for your protection against the Fates' eye."

"How do you know this?" Aesir sniped, his mind full of questions, answers and more feelings of confusion than he had words for. "If I'm so hidden, how do you know I am protected- or rather, why I am?"

It was Shirin who continued to read the prophesy:

"When he is ready, his bloodwrath strong,  
Look to the east, its cors-like throng.  
Yet don't despair at an empty bed,  
She comes to you aft four beasts dead.  
Bring forth the Princess,  
Bring forth the Heart,  
Bring forth the Memories,  
The Arrow's painful dart."

And then Aleris spoke the final phrase:

"It all begins with an endless night,  
The Elderstar signals the start of the fight.  
Sides can be switched, enemies friends,  
Misunderstood subjects, bridges to mend.  
Courage for battle, bravery for life,  
Be wary of she who carries a knife.  
The Red Prince gives mercy where others use might,  
Welcome the dark; beware of the light."

"We do not know to which of your line each warning and blessing attach themselves to," Celton said sternly, rising from his seat and motioning for the meeting to adjourn. "I am sorry we cannot give you any more information than what we have, but our sight for the prince is limited."

Turning to Aesir, the ancient prophet laid a withered paw on the prince's strong shoulders. "Remember these words and their meanings, my prince. Remember to be courageous in the face of battle and let your bravery guide you. Look for a dark night and a bright red sun. Your danger comes from the east with a corsair-like throng. Watch for an endless night, an Elderstar to signal the fight. Mind the Arrow and be wary of she who carries the knife."


	18. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

"And there he stood, three hundred corsairs before him," Klein exclaimed and swooped his arms open over a group of wide eyed youngsters to elaborate the depiction of size from his perch on the fountain ledge. Around him, mothers continue about their washing, dually grateful for their children's entertainer and exaggerated story. Enjoying his day off from service, Klein was helping his wife go about her daily chores; which in translation meant keep the community children occupied so the females could work. Stretching back up to his full height, the mouse lieutenant posed a gallant stance and pretended to unsheathe a blade from his belt. "He drew his great sword and-"

"-And told every beast to go home it was time for tea!" A squirrelwife's sharp tone snapped behind him. The young ones squealed and shouted in mock fright, laughing and rolling about the dusty cobbles. In no time flat, the squirrelwife had each child scurrying to their mothers and shooed off in the direction of their homes and cottages.

"Really Klein, battle stories? At their age?" she sniped and flapped her paws onto her hips.

"And why not?" the mouse chuckled and winked at the few brave maids sticking around. "It's about their prince. They should be proud of him."

"Ah, yes," the squirrelwife mused sarcastically, tossing her paws in the air like she was worshiping the Seasons. "The Great Red Prince."

"Sure, make fun of him if you like," Klein shrugged. "Say what you like - go on. It's not going to change my opinion of him one bit."

The squirrelwife harrumphed and crossed her paws, tossing her nose up in the air to roll her eyes. "Rada, your husband's in love!"

"Respect for your commander and sovereign is not something to jest at, Salfin," Klein's gentle wife said softly from where she was scrubbing a shirt against her washboard. "It's an admirable quality."

"Yes, but I still don't see much good in this Prince Aesir," Salfin huffed. "So he can kill a beast and order kegs to the barracks to make our males drunker and more useless than stumps over some sort of celebration. Ha! Does he think we're all noble creatures needin' a feast every time a beast blows their nose?

"No, I say, we don't," she snapped out before any creature could get a word in edgewise. "Orderin' players and barrels of wine to fill their guts- waste of good coin that is; coin that could better goes towards other places in the city, like… like the orphanages!"

"The orphanages Queen Valina sponsors?" Klein said with a raised eyebrow. "Or the schoolhouses King Matthias outfits with books from Vasilis' own archive collection and tutors from his own employment?"

"Well, I mean- look at the mess up north."

"The north is a mess, but not because of Prince Aesir," Klein affirmed. "He'll put Nilhand to right, you'll see. He's got big plans for that state."

"Of course he's got big plans for it!" Salfin piped. "Olan told me the size of the jewels coming from those mines. I just don't see how he attracts all the attention he does."

"Your ruddy hubby thought the same thing of him, Salfin," Klein chuckled. "But our Prince Aesir changed Olan's mind quick-like. Mark my words; he'll be the greatest king Eutrusia's ever seen. Won't he, Rada?"

Rada looked up from her washing and gave Klein a smile and soft shrug. Having never met the trumpeted Red Prince, she would not give her not give her opinion on the matter. Klein just looked at her and laughed. His wife was a quiet sort and she rarely gave her opinion unless she had a strong view on the matter.

"That has nothing to do with telling the young ones horrible battle stories!" Salfin stressed. "You should be promoting peace and…"

"Flowers and calm seas," Klein said rolling his eyes at the squirrelwife. "Aye, the whole pretty picture, right?"

"Exactly. I don't like the stories you and Olan tell of war. It makes me uneasy."

"Well, think what you like, the young ones like them!" Klein said happily and picked up the basket to carry for his wife once she placed the last article of clothing and washboard in the hamper. "Shall we go home, Rada?"

The mousewife nodded and wiped her paws on her apron before walking with him up the small embankment towards their home.

"Imagine not wanting me to tell the little ones stories about their prince," Klein grumbled as they made their way through the busy streets. "No wonder Olan spends so much time away from home and with other mai- Er, I mean, Salfin can be the most difficult of creatures most of the time."

"She is opinionated," Rada agreed quietly ignoring Klein's covered up statement. "Is he really as great as you say he is, Klein," Rada questioned. "Or are you just glad you came back with your whole tail in place?"

"Both!" Klein chortled. "The prince may be young Rada, but his wise beyond his seasons. He didn't jump readily into war and when pushed to it, he didn't shy away from the sword. He will make us a good king."

"King Matthias is a good king," Rada replied. "Apart from Wesrus, we have never had a major war since he came to the throne."

"No, he's a philosopher as you are, Rada," Klein winked. "He grew up in too much warfare from his father King Matteus, or so my ol' Da used to say."

The two mice continued their chatter as they weaved through the streets and alleys of Guard Point – a community occupied primarily by members of the Royal Guard and a few Mariners. Coming to the top of a gradual slope, Klein opened the door to their home and ushered Rada inside.

"Where's Rayley today?" he asked as she begun hanging their clothes on the fire hook. "I haven't seen him since breakfast."

"He's off playing down by the shoreline with some of his friends," Rada smiled at the mention of their son. "Loukin has them, Klein. Swimming lessons – remember?"

"Right," the mouse recalled and went to help her. "If he wants to be an admiral, I suppose it's important he learn to swim like one!"

"An admiral," Rada pondered aloud, pausing for a moment to tut over a rip in a shirt. "Quite the imagination our son has."

Klein just laughed and settled down his chair by the hearth. "Yes, but who am I to squash his dreams? Look at where I came from and now I'm a lieutenant in the greatest army of the greatest kingdom in the Western Sea. The Seasons work in mysterious ways!"

"Yes," she breathed and hung an apron on the hook. _Admiral Rayley of Eutrusia,_ she thought to herself; strangely enough, to her, the words rolled easy in her mind. _Admiral Rayley._

"A _steward_!" Matthias laughed as he sat at the great stone table in the Council Chamber. Around the slate Baron Elrad of Seldor and Baron Falcor of Nilhand held their seats of state with Lord Admiral Daelahn, while chancellors and advisors took up the vacant chairs, leaving only the baronial seats of Eurus and Wesrus unoccupied. Leaning back in his chair, the king eyed Aesir comically, "My son, you can't be serious!"

"Perhaps, the wine is still in his head," Falcor muttered below his breath and the few beasts closest to him snickered their response. Admiral Daelahn glowered at the baron, but Aesir ignored the comment; sitting leisurely in his chair, the prince stared down the table at his father.

"Northerners lack confidence in our rule because we are rarely seen, Lord Father," Aesir said in a commanding tone. "Our presence is infrequent in Nilhand and a steward would be our representative in our absence; a constant reminder Eutrusian solidarity."

"A _baron_ is the crown representative," Falcor seethed.

"A baron of Eutrusia is a representative of the state _to_ the crown," Matthias corrected him and gave the disgruntled squirrel a hard gaze. "Perhaps, if you remembered that, my lord baron, you would still have power behind that name of yours."

The squirrel skewed his face at the slight, but gave his sovereign a nod of respect. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Stewards tend to become over mighty, Prince Aesir," an elderly chancellor spoke up to break the tension. "They go for long times without their authority challenge and rarely want to relinquish their power when the time calls."

"Given to the right beast, I believe it can be done," Aesir countered. "One that will carry out the wishes of the crown in its stead, but also work with the Baron of Nilhand to ensure their subjects pride in their kingdom.

"We must make more of a collective effort to be seen throughout all of Eutrusia, not just in the south," Aesir addressed his father directly. "You need to be on more progresses, Father. You need to be seen to support your whole kingdom and not just one half of it."

"Aesir, you forget your place," Matthias warned him, shifting on his seat and rapping a claw on the table. "Do not pretend to tell me how to rule my own land."

"I meant no disrespect, Father," Aesir stated and bowed his head slight. "I only meant to illustrate your subjects' need for inclusion."

"And what inclusion would you have me do, my son," Matthias said, crossing his arms. "You obviously have more in mind than a simple stewardship."

"Build a summer palace in the North and have us visit it from time to time," Aesir said quickly. "Include the Northerners in the construction. Hold court there at times and share the Feast days amongst _all_ of your states. Let Eutrusia take pride in our family and the nobles we set to help us rule."

Grumbles and whispers erupted around the room.

"Build a palace!" Matthias scoffed and rubbed his paws on his face. "Aesir…"

"Right here," Aesir said pointing at the plain which they had their battle on the mapped table for all to see. "The land is flat and easily turned. It is a full day's heavy march from the sea and we can float the Royal Barges up the Eu from here once the dikes are removed across the eastern border. There are orchard groves to the south, a direct road to Ashbryar Castle and a stone's throw away from the mines past the village of Aramore."

"Aramore is a small village with a meagre market," Falcor said bluntly. "It would never support a palace."

"It would appear Baron Falcor does not travel north of his gates much," Aesir sniped. "The waters of the Eu are deep there- the catch plentiful. I have already said there are orchards and the grounds will need to be worked, but that is easily solved with fieldpaws and seeds. Being as close to the river as it is will lead to easy trade routes and, as we all know, fires burn the warmest with Northern Pine. The resources are there for sustainability and I do not doubt the market will flourish once the news of a royal residence is heard."

Matthias smiled at his son's counter. "It sounds like you have already drawn the plans, Aesir."

"They should be laying the foundations by now." Aesir looked behind him and waved Tipper forward. The pawbeast started slightly at the gesture and walked briskly towards the table from his place at the wall with obvious nervousness. Aesir gave him a reassuring smile as he accepted the large scroll and small wooden box from the squirrel's trembling paws.

"Foundations!" Matthias roared as Aesir rose from his seat and started laying the contents of the crate onto the council table. "What do you mean foundations have been laid?"

"They were going to start quarrying the day we left," Aesir said and pulled out a square block of grey sandstone. Placing it in the center of the table, he announced. "This is the stone for the walls and fortifications. And this," taking out a piece of verd antique, "is to be the flooring for all state rooms and royal chambers. All other areas will have slate flagstone."

Other building samples littered the table as the prince continued his summary of the palace materials. One by one, he explained their purpose and place within the plans before passing them down the lines of bewildered nobles.

"And this," Aesir said proudly, lifting the thick scroll from the table and tipped it towards the king. "I believe will give you a more concrete vision of it, Father."

Matthias raised an eyebrow at Aesir's offered parchment before waving a pawbeast to fetch it for him.

"And of all the times we have talked since you were back, you chose to keep this from me until know?" the king asked and shook his head at the smirk on his son's face.

"I thought it best left a surprise," Aesir scoffed and a few of the nobles chuckled. The prince's grin widened as he watched his father study the layouts.

"And you drew this?" Matthias asked pointedly. Aesir nodded. "Complete with a wing dedicated to a steward. Convenient inclusion."

"Perhaps."

"And you gave the order for them to commence building this palace?"

"Yes. It is to be named Caerhayes Palace."

"Very well, Aesir," Matthias said sternly. "I suppose you need a project to oversee."

"Your Majesty, I must object!" Baron Elrad spoke up, surprising the council. "Construction of a palace is costly enough, but maintaining one is a different matter altogether. Nilhand does not have the resources to sustain Ashbryar Castle, its other lords' and syrs' manors and keeps, _and_ a royal residence on the cutting down of _trees!"_

"There are mines up there, Elrad," Daelahn hissed at his cousin. "And there are jewels in them."

"A few cast aside stones and granite shards," Elrad ridiculed. "They are nothing to the mines here in Seldor."

Aesir simpered at the otter for a moment and then took a deep breath as if in defeat. "I thought you might say that, my lord baron." Reaching into the box one last time, the prince pulled out an object the size of an orange wrapped in a silken cloth. Laying it on the table delicately, he unfolded the flaps to reveal blood red ruby. Giving the gem a twist to catch the light, the jewel set the chamber aflame with dots of red light.

"They've called it the King's Heart," Aesir said haughtily in their gaping silence. "It isn't the largest gem they've mined, but I challenge any of your mines to produce such quality, Baron Elrad." Holding the ruby up in his paw again, he addressed his father, "This is to return to Nilhand and be placed in the head of the Caerhayes' throne. Forever will it remain there as a symbol of our family."

"And who will take such a valuable item back into the northern state," an advisor piped up from the silence.

"The Steward of Nilhand," Aesir affirmed. "The beast who brings the King's Heart back to her state will be known to the creatures of the north that he is the king's appointed paw to govern them."

"And who would you appoint as your steward Aesir?" Matthias questioned. "Who will be the Steward of the North?"

"I bow to the king's judgement," Aesir said formally. "I merely suggest a solution. Your Majesty must make the final decisions."

"And I decide it will be your decision, Aesir," Matthias chuckled and held up his paw when Aesir went to speak again. "But I do not want your decision now. You obviously have a beast in mind when you created this position. I want you to think on your choice.

"In the meantime, the council will draw up a list of suitable creatures and we will meet again _tomorrow_ to discuss it," Matthias stressed.

Aesir nodded and sat in his chair to show his compliancy with Matthias' ruling.

"And now I must conclude our council for the day, my friends," Matthias smiled, "For I must admit I am not as young as I used to be and after last night's festivities, I am exhausted- as I am sure a lot of you are as well."

Aesir shot his father a hard glance as the council adjourned and nobles started filing out of the chambers. They had not yet discussed what was to be done with Ulran and Ulrick.

After packing away his items and giving the guards strict rules on where to place the large ruby in the palace treasury, Aesir jumped to his footpaws and followed his father out of the chamber.

"That's it, we're done?" he said in exasperation. "Just like that?"

"Yes," was the simple reply he got back as the two regal mice weaved their way toward the western wing.

"We only discussed Nilhand and addressed its problems," Aesir said sternly. "We didn't discuss the causes."

"The cause is immaterial Aesir," Matthias sighed at his son's insistence. "It happened, they reacted, you fought, you won, and they are again at peace with Eutrusia. That book is back on the shelf. You've opened a new one with this palace of yours that needs your attention now."

"The protection of Eutrusia needs my attention as Captain of her Royal Guard!" Aesir challenged. "And I will not have two traitors strutting about unquestioned."

"Enough, Aesir," Matthias snapped at him. "Remember the old saying that a true king never sleeps and while you were nursing yourself back to a crude form of mobility this morning I was already dealing with the rulings of _my kingdom."_

At Aesir's grimace, the king eased his tone and placed a paw on the prince's shoulder. "I have already sent for them, son; they should be here within a fortnight."

* * *

Screeches and screams howled from the depths of Calsley Castle, where a blackened wretch wailed curses and gnashed teeth at the small window of bars in the cell door.

"Easy, mates," Syr Fendrel chided them as a group of five Eurian guards jumped and held their spears tighter, their weapons' tips pointed at the thick timbered blockage. "He's not getting out of there for a long time."

"They say it's a cursed creature," one of the guards whimpered. "Able to walk through walls and…"

"Scary tales to put ya'll to sleep at night," the commander scoffed. "If the thing could walk through walls, do ya think he'd still be in there, eh?"

The young guards looked less than convinced. "Just hold those spears ahead o' ya and don't listen to a word he hisses out- or that wench down the hall." Walking to the other cell door, the otter looked into the chamber. "Comfortable, your ladyship?"

"Don't even talk to her," Baron Ulran commanded as he descended the stairs and into the circular dungeon. Leaning on his prop to take the wait off his injured leg, the mouse sneered at the door. "She's not worth the air to make your words."

"Course, Your Grace," Fendrel said quickly and backed away towards the jumpy guards. Ulran gave his commander of guard a curt nod before hobbling over to the lockup. Glancing inside, he saw her light gray fur illuminating in the torchlight.

"Ulyssa."

"Brother."

"Are you ready to confess your crimes?"

"I will when you do, Ulran."

"You will die - you understand that?" he pressed. "I will notify the king of your treasonous conspiracy and you will meet an axebeast."

"Then how would me confessing anything make a difference?"

"I can tell them to sharpen the edge," he sneered in distaste. "Or make sure it is dull."

"You are a cold beast towards family, Ulran," Ulyssa deduced. "I hear you have Ulrick locked in his chambers with guards posted at every door. Such a fine way to treat your heir."

"Leave Ulrick out of this," Ulran snapped. "He is not thinking straight; his mind has been poisoned by you and that creature."

A vicious smile curled her lips. "That line will only work for so long, Ulran, and besides, what was that curse the seer said when you stabbed him- those you love will never listen? Will be a horrible thing if it's true and your words become empty."

Ulran huffed at her and spun on his heel away from her. He'd wasted enough time on her already.

"Keep a tight watch on them, Syr Fendrel," Ulran directed as he stepped gingerly over to the stairs. "Remember- take no orders but those from me regarding them."

"Aye, Your Grace."

The baron grunted his response and made his way back up the stairwell, leaning heavily on his cane in one paw and grasping the railing firmly with the other. He wasn't even supposed to be out of bed yet; the healers had advised he stay immobile for at least a fortnight to let the stitches take hold of his hideous wound from the creature's dirk that ran almost the length of his leg. But Ulran couldn't sit still and be placid when there was so much to be done since his battle with the demon in the archive room and it was by the skin of his teeth that he had emerge victorious from that combat. Only once had his blade met the skin of the black vermin, but he had received many injuries from it. It had been sheer luck that Syr Fendrel had returned back from his post at the border with a score of guards when they heard Ulran's yells and crashed into the library with their spears to corner off the creature. Together with his guards, Ulran had forced the beast into the castle dungeons while dragging his sister with him by her headfur. He had ordered Ulran be locked in his rooms under arrest before giving into his wounds and failing unconscious. The next morning he had awoken to a body covered with stitches and Dellia keeping vigil beside him.

Reaching the top of the steps, Ulran let out a groan from his efforts and a guard came forward to clasp his elbow.

"Are you alright, y'Grace?" the vole said quickly. "Maybe you should sit down a spell."

"No, thank-you, Dax," the baron breathed. "I just need to get back to my chambers. Where is Kirk- I asked him to wait here for me?"

"He went to collect so missive for you." The vole slowly let go of the baron once he found his balance. "Asked me to come escort you to your chambers if you need me-"

"Ulran?" a light voice fluttered from the joining hallway and the baron looked up to see his wife striding towards him. "My lord, there you are! You promised me you were staying in bed."

"I had some beast I had to talk to," he replied and took a few shaky steps in her direction. "I'm done now. I'll go rest."

Dellia smiled at him and looped her arm around his free elbow to help him walk forward.

"You're getting stronger," he commented after a backwards glance to see her pawmaids were far enough behind. "You're almost holding me up now!"

"This is not a joke, Ulran," Dellia exclaimed. "You need to heal. You need to rest."

"I will, love," he whispered to her.

"I have been to your small advisors meeting this morning and they assure me of their support in this matter of state," Dellia informed him. "Although, they did voice a concern over Lord Ulrick and his… questionable future."

"My son has a future," Ulran grumbled. "I will see to it."

"Ulran-"

"I don't know what I'm doing yet, Dellia," he said shortly. "Regardless of what he's done… Dellia, Ulrick is still my son."

"He is a traitor."

"He's still my son," the baron whispered and turned to face her. "He was under the influence of my sister- the true traitor. Now that he has been removed from her grasp, he will bring himself about."

"You have been making excuses for him his whole life, Ulran," Dellia scoffed. "It is time you stopped and let the Seasons and Fates decide his fortune.

"His head belongs on a pike," she stressed in their silence. "Inform my brother of their crimes and have him condemn both of them to death along with that horrible creature of theirs."

"And watch my son die before my eyes?"

"Ulran," she started softly. "I understand your indecision here…"

"You don't understand," Ulran snapped. "I held Ulrick's paws for his first steps- tickled his belly just to hear him laugh. I taught him how to hold a sword… you never had children; you don't understand what I'm going through."

The baroness was silent, her eyes like ice. "No. I do not." She held his gaze for moment then released her hold on his arm. "I have no idea what you are going through. All I know is that beasts wanted my nephew dead and though they did not succeed, the intent for murder was there. Plotting to kill one of the royal family is treason - and traitors must die."

Before Ulran could make an argument, Kirk came trotting down the hall.

"Your Grace!" he called and waved his paw at them. "And Baroness Dellia! This just arrived from Vasilis."

"Probably just a missive from the prince telling us of his victory," Ulran predicted. Taking the scroll from the servant and breaking the seal, the baron began to read the script.

"Or a message from Queen Valina," Dellia said with a smile. "I have been waiting for her letter." Turning to the pawbeast, the baroness added, "See the messenger is fed and rested, Kirk. I will have my response to him within the hour."

Kirk gave her a shifty glance and watched as Ulran's brow furrowed in concentration as he read the parchment. "Erm, the messenger has already left, Your Grace."

"Already left?" Dellia gaped. "Messengers are to wait for a response. Who was the deliverer?"

"One of the white and black seabirds."

"A sooty tern?" Dellia sputtered, knowing their importance. Turning to Ulran she noted the scowl on his face. "My lord, what does the missive say?"

"It's from your brother," Ulran snorted and pierced his lips into disbelieving smile. "The king commands me to return to court immediately. And with Ulrick at my side."

"Commands you?" the baroness asks and takes the offered message from her husband. Glancing at the paper, she read the hastened words. There was no warmth, no familiarity in them; only cold, distant letters scratched out in ink. The obscured thumping noise from Ulran's cane broke her concentration and she looked up to see him shuffling away from her. Setting her jaw in determination, Dellia picked up her skirts to follow him.

"Why is my brother summoning you and Ulrick in such a fashion," she demanded. "Surely news of _this_ has not reached his ears already?"

"I have not the faintest idea what the king wants, Dellia," Ulran replied in painful voice. "But I must obey his wish and prepare to leave immediately."

"Are you taking Ulrick with you?"

"Yes. As you read it is the king's command."

"I am coming with you," she said defiantly.

"No," Ulran countered. "I need you to stay here in Lysium and keep safe. Seasons only know what Matthias wants after a letter like that."

"Which is why you need me by your side," Dellia pressed.

"No."

"Yes."

"Dellia, you are too weak to travel."

"So are you."

"Yes, but I will heal along the way- you may just grow weaker. I want you here in Lysium where I know you'll be safe."

"I am safest with you."

Ulran gave a great sigh and stopped at the doors to their baronial chambers. "Why aren't you listening to me?"


	19. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

_Training with the Guard, meeting with the admiral- discuss the ship from Oremere docking half crewed with sickness, council meeting, and archery with the royal wards…_

Aesir listed the day's agenda through his mind as he strode down the darken hallways towards the palace kitchens. The sun was just starting to lighten the Eutrusian sky; its light dripping languid tones of mauve and bluing white through the leaded windows and reflected against the crystal and gold accents about the corridors. As he walked, the prince adjusted his sword belt and finished buttoning his shirt sleeves, while his thoughts continued with his schedule.

_… Induct my new page, stand with Father while he titles two nobles' sons, meet with Lord Conroy over my charities, send a Tern to Nilhand for progress reports on the palace construction, somehow find time to eat and make time for…_

"I want a platter of fresh fruits and breads with hazelnut spread sent to Nilhand's State Chambers for Lady Josephine this morning," Cerys directed a kitchen servant as they walked across the prince's path in front of the doors leading to the Grand Gallery. "My pawmaids tell me it was a hard birthing for her yesterday - a good breakfast may help her regain some of her strength."

"Yes, Your Highness," the servant replied. "It was a hard birth for her to be true, but Lord Birchall was happy it was a male."

"Yes," she smiled wistfully for a moment. "I am told they are to call him Sorrel after the lord's grandsire. And speaking of Lord Birchall - his nephew, the young Lord Talanis, is due to arrive at Vasilis today. We must make him welcome. Perhaps you could arrange a miniature feast for him and the other wards for this evening? We can set them up in the solar of the southern wing; that would be large enough for them all to fit in."

"A feast, m'lady?" he stammered.

"Lord Talanis is _Baron _Falcor's son and heir," the princess pressed. "He will one day be an important figure in this kingdom and he should have a proper reception. It need not be anything too extravagant- just some fun for the other royal wards to help celebrate their newest friend."

"As you wish," the hedgehog nodded. "Do you have any other wishes for the day's meals?"

Aesir listened to her rhyme off her expectations for the day from the shadows, a coy grin lightening his features as he watched her. Organizing the palace's meals was a small task Cerys had recently taken over from the queen, but one she took as seriously. As carefree and adventurous as Cerys was in her leisure time, she was dedicated to each of her duties- no matter how great or small.

"Oh and make sure Prince Aesir's midday meal is one that can be left unspoiled for an _unreasonable_ amount of time," she directed. "Seasons know the king is running him ragged with duties and I hardly know when he has time to eat…"

"Don't worry about me midday," Aesir piped and stepped forward towards the startled kitchenpaw and the grinning princess. Cerys's pawmaids curtsied quickly and backed away to give the two royals a respectable distance. "I'll grab something along my travels." Waving the kitchenpaw away from them, he added, "Good morning, Cerys."

"Good morning, Aesir," she replied sweetly and hummed quietly when he kissed her paw. "How did you manage to slip away without your pawbeasts?"

"I never need them first thing," he said and held up his arm to escort her into the Grand Gallery. "They don't need to watch me train every morning so I have them meet me once I'm done on the Tilt Grounds."

"That's not going to be long today." Pointing a bejewelled paw at the tall windows of the Gallery, Cerys added, "Those clouds are bringing in nothing but rain."

"Rain never stopped a war, Cerys," Aesir chuckled and looked her up and down. Her peach gown was simple, but elegant and he loved the way silver bands of fabric studded with pearls decorated her brow before being weaved with streams apricot coloured organza into her braided headfur. Even at this hour of the day she already looked like a queen. "The Royal Guard are not afraid to get wet." At her exasperated look, he winked, "And training in the rain cuts down on the wash time afterwards."

She ignored he poor attempt at a jest. "Rain may not hinder you, but the lightning might." As if on cue, thunder rumbled outside the palace.

"Ah, I need to get out of here before Father comes down and starts fussing," Aesir mused and turned to face her. "If he asks, you haven't seen me."

"Oh, like that will work," she smirked. "You may be able to hide from him, but he'll drive every other beast mad with his fretting until he knows where you are."

"That's fine," the prince laughed and Cerys gave him a playful swat on the shoulder. "Alright, alright. You can tell him I'm… around."

"Oh, Aesir!"

"I have to go oversee the sentinel change, Cerys," he smiled and kissed her paw in farewell. "Have a wonderful day and I'll see you at dinner."

"Aesir, you haven't had any breakfast!" she protested. "At least come to the kitchens and get something to eat…"

The latch to the courtyard clicked closed, giving the princess her answer.

* * *

"Well, ain't this just a damn fine morning, Donny!" Olan grumbled as he stood under the outcrop on the training ground. The thunder rumbled above them and lightning flashed across the sky. Pulling his cloak hood up higher on his head, the squirrel muttered, "Seasons, I hate this weather!"

"Aw, c'mon now Olan!" Loukin laughed from the center of the yard where he was putting two other otters through the motions with stave poles. "It's just good Eutrusian weather. Rain's coming straight down an' warm as y' like."

"It's cold, damp and bloody horrible," he grumbled and looked over at the Arms Master. "Donny- talk some sense into the crazy beast will ya?"

Thunder ripped the air above them in two, snapping with such force, every creature cringed back further in their shelters. "Loukin!" Syr Donovan yelled through the hammering rain. "You three take cover before you lose your rudders to a streak of light!"

"Alright, Don, don't get yar tail feathers all puffy," the otter smirked and waved the two cadets off to some shelter. "Ya know, my mom was hit by lightning they say an' she's a fine beast."

"Only because it 'ad to travel through tat fat arse of hers," Cental whispered out of the side of his mouth at the nearby guards. "Me father was standin' right by 'er when it 'appened- he said t' sky rumbled, she bent over and _flash_- 'er dress be cinged clean to 'er…"

"Finish that sentence an' I'll strap ya in full armour, haul ya t' the tallest hill and drive a metal stake inta t' ground ta hold ya in place," Loukin glared at the water vole. "My mom's a right beaut."

"Yeah, yeah, she's a ten," Olan guffawed and looked about the gathering fighters reporting for training. "Where's the prince- he needs to call off the drills for the day."

"His Highness, the prince!"

Every beast straightened up at the herald's announcement and stopped their idle chatter as Aesir appeared at the lower entrance. The prince perused his surroundings for a moment before settling his sight on Syr Donovan and pulling his red cloak hood up over his ears, strode out across the sodden practice field towards the senior squirrel.

"Well, it's about flippin' time," Olan chortled and razed Aesir as he came under the awning. "I was about to call you a soft-tail for skirting training due to weather."

"If I'm a short-tail, what would that make you?" Aesir jested and tossed the lieutenant a scroll. "Though I'd love to know why Lord Birchall is thinking I'm some sort of messenger."

"Oh, Ol' Lordy-pants remembers that I'm part of his family after all," Olan scoffed as he read the quick note. "Josie had a lad, I see."

"Wait- you're related to Lord Birchall?" Cental snickered. Olan glared at him. "What are you doing in the Guard?"

"Because after the fifth son there isn't even sludge to scrape out of the barrel," Olan replied curtly. "And then when you're the third son of that fifth son, it's simply- fend for yourself."

Aesir glanced around the gathering. "Where is Lieutenant Klein?"

"His lad has been ill with a fever," Lieutenant Condor explained. "Klein was here earlier, but we sent him home, Your Highness."

"Aye," Syr Donovan confirmed. "He looked worse than death - been sitting up with his son the last few nights so his wife can rest."

"Young Rayley's on the mend at least," Loukin added. "Now that he's fever has broken, that is. Don't you worry, sire. Klein'll be back first thing in the morning- you'll see."

_Hmm,_ Aesir pondered for a moment before changing the subject. "How was the watch at the Eu, Loukin?"

"Quiet," the otter yawned, suddenly feeling sleep-deprived from his night watch. "No sign of the Eurians yet."

"Hellsgates," Aesir grumbled under his breath. Sixteen days since his father sent a summons to Baron Ulran and still nothing. Not a reply or some much as a whisper to ensure they were coming. If the delay continued much longer, Aesir would have no choice but to muster the Guard again and go collect the baron and his son to bring them to justice. Turning to Lieutenant Malax, the prince commanded, "Prepare our fastest scouts to make for Talanti Pass the moment the storm lets up. The hill crag will give them a generous view of the Eu to the east and they will be able to see any procession the Baron of Eurus is making."

"Yes, Highness."

The rain hammered down in sheets and the lightning lit the sky. "We aren't going to accomplish anything in this weather besides catch a cold," Aesir sighed and looked at Donovan. "What do you think, Syr?"

"I don't really want to see a Guard get roasted if a bolt finds its way to a blade," the old squirrel replied. "Nor do I want to hear any sniffling or complaining come tomorrow."

"Then send them home, Donovan," Aesir proclaimed with a flick of his wrist. "We'll all meet tomorrow."

The prince watched as the fighters dispersed back to their homes, talking lightly with his lieutenants about some of the new recruits and sentry schedule.

"I want one of you at the river landing at all hours," Aesir ordered them when they turned to more serious conversations. "When Baron Ulran and Lord Ulrick decide to _grace_ us with their presence, I want them escorted under guard to the palace. Allow them their dignity, but make sure they are immediately taken before the king or myself- at whatever bell it may be."

"Yes, Highness."

"Are you sure about that, sire?" Olan sniggered. "Heard from some of the maid servants your nights have been busy of late. Something about getting over somebeast – or was it _on_ somebeast? Heh. Maybe both, I can't remember."

As inappropriate as the address was to both a royal and superior, Aesir brushed the indignity aside in favour of good-faith camaraderie. Besides, a little boasting of his recent ascension to _adulthood_ bolstered his ego after the disaster which had been his first attempt. The adolescent in him wanted to crow over his private victories, but the prince inside held him back, choosing instead to change the subject all together.

"Uh-h, Syr Donovan," Aesir said, clearing his throat and fighting off the smug smirk threatening to curl his lips. "Which way is it to Lieutenant Klein home? I want to let him know the change in the sentinel watch."

"I'll show ya t' way, Your Highness!" Loukin offered. "I gotta walk that way t' me own cottage."

* * *

"Hoist the main sail and trim the scrapper!" a young mouse called to the many ears of his imaginary crew. Climbing over the railing of his loft, he curled his arm around a joist and leaned out into the open space of the cottage main room. "Tie off that… _kauff,_ stay-_kauff_-sail, _kauff_."

"Rayley?" a voice whispered urgently from the kitchen where a kindly looking mousewife appeared with a steaming pot held in her paws. "Rayley!" she gasped and set the food on the table. "Rayley - you get back into bed this instant! You know you aren't supposed to be playing around."

"But Ma-" the mouselet whined. "I feel better this morning… _kauff_. I'm sick of sitting in bed. It's boring."

"Shh," his mother hushed him. "Quiet, Rayley- your father is sleeping."

"But-"

"Buts are where tails sprout, now back to bed." The youngster was not convinced by her attempt at reprimand. "Da would let me," he challenged her.

"Oh, Rayley- he would not," she rolled her eyes and wagged a paw at him when he started coughing again. "See- now back to bed with you, and _quietly."_

Rayley sighed and slipped under the railing. "Whatcha making for breaky, Ma?"

"I'll bring you up some porridge in a moment," she smiled at him. "I might have a slice of orange for you, if you get your tail back under those covers!"

"Can I sit here and eat it where I can see you?"

"No, Rayley…"

"Rayley, listen to your mother!" Klein shuffled out of their bedchamber and gave his wife an exhausted smile. "Feeling better is he, Rada?"

She sighed and gave him a nod. "We were trying not to wake you, Klein."

"I wasn't really asleep," he confessed. "I can't sleep with all this thunder."

"Da-" Rayley coughed and grinned down at his father. "Are you coming up to eat breakfast with me?"

"Let me talk to your mother for a moment and maybe," he breathed, rubbing his face with his paw. "Just get into bed, Rayley."

"But…"

_"Rayley."_ Unlike his mother's stern voice, the young mouse knew his father's meant business. "Okay, okay," the mouselet mumbled and walked his way behind the pulled back curtain to his cot. "I'm going," he rasped out.

The lieutenant exhaled loudly and slumped over to sit at the table. "It smells good, Rada."

"You need to rest or else you'll end up sick like your son," she chided him and laid out the bowls on the table. "Well, I suppose you should eat if your up - I'll get the bread."

Before the he could respond there was a knock at the door and Rada paused at the entrance to her kitchen. "Who would that be at this time in the morning?" she asked and Klein slowly pushed himself to up to his footpaws.

"I'll get it," he muttered and straightened his clothes. "Go on, Rada - it's probably just some beast wondering how Rayley is."

"In this weather?" she said sceptically, but retreated into the side room. A knock sounded again- this time with more force behind it. Klein scowled at impatience of the creature outside. Most of their friends would either call out or simply poke their head in. Again a fisted paw meant the door.

"Alright, alright - hold your tail, I'm coming," Klein called as he walked towards the door adjusting his tunic. Notching his belt loosely at his waist, the lieutenant grabbed the handle and pulled the door open. "Bloody early in the morning to banging on… er, um… _Your Highness?"_

"Good morning, lieutenant," the prince smiled and blew water droplets off the end of his nose. "Or rather, _wet_ morning."

Klein cocked his head to the side and twisted it upwards to view the deluge. "Er, yes, sire. Will you come in?"

"Please!" Aesir laughed and entered the cottage once Klein threw the door wide, bowing slightly when the prince walked past. Aesir glanced around the home for a moment, taking in the neat and tidy interior and high banked fire. Seeing a carefully laid out breakfast table, he sighed. "I'm sorry, Klein - I've interrupted your morning meal."

"Erm, not really, sire," Klein replied and fumbled with his appearance. "Rada - my wife - she was just laying it out."

"Well, I won't keep you from breaking your fast," the prince proclaimed and unclipped his drenched cloak. "Go ahead and eat. I'll just dry off by the fire for a bit."

"Of course, Your Highness," Klein said quickly, eyeing the royal mouse warily as he strode to the hearth and pulled up a stool. Klein scratched his head and glanced over at the entrance to the kitchen, before nervously scuffing his footpaw. "Er, sire. May I ask why you're here?"

Aesir looked over his shoulder momentarily and then tossed his cape over a bar on the drying rack. "There's been some changes to the sentry duties and I thought I would let you know what they were- seeing as you were at the Tilt this morning."

"I see," Klein responded. "As much as I appreciate you coming to tell me this personally, Highness, isn't this something a herald could have taken care of for you?"

"Yes, but I had other things I wished to discuss with you."

"Other things?" Klein questioned as Rada came into the main room with a plate of fresh bread and butter.

"Klein, who was it at the…" she begun to say, then stopped when Aesir stood up from his stool and placed his right paw over his heart to give her a bow of his head. "Good morning, ma'am," he said politely. Rada gaped at the mouse's rich clothes and though he was not wearing his coronet, the prince's signet ring and dark copper fur colouring gave away his identity.

"Your Highness!" she gulped and dipped down into a quick curtsy, nearly upsetting the plate in her paws. "I- I… um, good morning to you as well, Your Highness," she stumbled out, her eyes surveying the floor as she reddened a shade for every grain of dirt she missed from her hasty sweep the night before.

"Your wife?" Aesir smiled at Klein.

"Yes, sire," the lieutenant said and walked over to rise her up. "Your Highness, may I introduce my wife, Rada. Rada- His Highness, Prince Aesir Etifedd."

"Prince _who?"_ exclaimed a voice from above them and the three mice turned to see Rayley poking his head out of the railing with a look juvenile disbelief and unbounded excitement. "Da- the Red Prince is… is… is_ here?"_

"Rayley, I told you to keep that tail of yours in bed!" Klein said sharply.

The mouselet huffed. "But… but-"

"Rayley…"

"Rayley?" Aesir smirked and looked up at the loft. "Not _thee_ Rayley I've been hearing about from Admiral Daelahn; the Rayley who is bound and determined to be my Admiral of the Royal Fleet one day?"

A smile erupted on the young mouse's face. "He knows who I am! Da, Ma, did you hear?" he said excitedly and pointed at Aesir. "He knows my name! He knows I'm going to be an admiral… _Kauff."_

"Rayley, don't point," Klein implored him. "And called His Highness by his proper addresses, please…"

"What-" Rayley said scrunching up his nose in thought. "-Aesir?"

Rada gasped, but it could not be heard over Aesir's booming laughter.

"Rayley!" Klein gaped and the mouselet just giggled at his father's tone.

"It's alright, lieutenant." Aesir patted the flustered father's shoulder before stepping in front of them. "I fear the fault was mine not using the proper addresses myself. Will you forgive my lack of manners, Master Rayley?"

"Certainly, mister- er, um, what do I call you?" Rayley asked and walked curiously over to the ladder.

"At first you address me as Your Highness," Aesir said. "And then after that it is simply sire or highness."

"Sounds kinda stuffy."

Klein clapped his paws to his face and pulled his features down in stress. "Rada, get him down here and feed him. Maybe food will shut him up!"

"Rayley- time for breakfast, dear," the kindly mousewife implored him. Waving her paw to the table, she added, "Your oatmeal is getting cold."

"But Da said I'm not allowed off bed…"

"Rayley, by the Seasons, get down here, lad!" Klein huffed. Once he saw the mouse obey and start climbing down the rungs of the ladder, the lieutenant turned to the prince. "I'm sorry, Your Highness. He hasn't been around many nobles, let alone royalty and well, he's been sick and- wait, Rayley's had a fever. You shouldn't been here, sire. You might catch his illness…"

"I'll be fine, Klein," Aesir guffawed as the mouselet bounced over to the table and tried to sit down, but Rada caught him by the paw and nodding to the prince while whispering in his ear.

"Bow?" Rayley queried. "Really? But we already said hello…" Rada didn't say anymore, but simply gave her son a little shove towards the two males.

"Er, 'morning, Your Highness," he said and flopped his upper body forward.

"And you, Master Rayley," Aesir returned. "May the Seasons give you a fair day."

The mouselet processed the greeting for a moment then hastily nodded and bounded back to his seat so he could dive into his bowl of porridge.

"Won't you join us, sire?" Rayley said, surprising both his parents and gaining an interested glance from Aesir. "My Ma makes the best oatmeal- all spiced and full o' dried cranberries. You can sit beside me if you like."

"I wouldn't want to impose," Aesir replied and sniffed the air. "Though I must say, it does smell delicious, Rada."

The mousewife blushed at the compliment. "Thank-you, sire. There is lots, if you would like to join us."

"Please sit, sire," Klein said while he pulled out his chair at the head of the table for the prince. To his surprise, the prince shook his head and took a seat beside Rayley.

"Oh no, Klein. You're the king of this castle. I'm just a guest."

"This is a cottage, not a castle!" Rayley chuckled as Aesir mockingly fought him for his slice of bread.

"A beast's home is his castle," Aesir winked at the young mouselet and ruffled his ears. Accepting a steaming bowl of porridge from Rada, Aesir took a large mouthful of the hearty food.

"This is wonderful, Rada," Aesir praised her and watched some of the anxiety drop from her shoulders. "Never tasted better!"

She beamed at the acknowledgment and sighed in relief at her husband's approving smile. "Tea, sire?"

"Please," the prince nodded and accepted the poured cup.

"You drink tea?" Rayley gawked as Aesir took a sip and held in a cough. "But us common beasts drink tea!"

"I think every creature does," Aesir tittered. "My mother drinks it before and after every meal."

"That's a lot of tea."

"Yes!" Aesir took another sip of the warm liquid. "But nothing is better on a damp day such as this!"

"Tell me about it," the young mouse grumbled and slouched in his seat. "I'll be stuck in bed all day."

The three adults shared a laugh and once Rayley was done his meal, Klein sent him off to his loft to play with his toy ships.

"He is determined to be a sailor one day," the lieutenant explained as Rayley climbed the ladder with practiced ease. "He has a whole fleet of wooden ships up there in a basin, you know."

"I don't doubt it," Aesir smiled and leaned back in his chair. "When he's ten seasons old - apply for his entrance into the Mariner's Commission. Address it to me, and I will make sure he's placed under the Admiral as a landed ensign." Rada stiffened and gave Klein a worried look. "Don't worry, ma'am," Aesir assured her. "He won't get taken to sea until his twelfth season, but he can learn the ropes before he sets sail."

Klein bowed his head to the prince. "Thank-you, sire. In another three seasons, I'll give you his application."

"You may need to send it to me." Aesir straightened up and rested his forearms on the table, cupping his paws and lightly tapping them on the tabletop. He watched as Klein and Rada exchanged an awkward glance.

"Send it to you?" Klein started cautiously. "Are you going somewhere, Your Highness?"

"No, but you may be." Worry instantly flashed across the lieutenant's tired face and his breathing visibly increased. "Sire, if I've done anything to offend you…"

"Klein, I can assure you, you have done nothing to offend me."

"Then-"

"I wish you promote you," Aesir smiled at the lieutenant.

"Promote me?" Klein said. "Your Highness, I'm a lieutenant. I'm as high as I can go in…"

"In the Guard," Aesir continued for him and took another drink from his teacup. "What I am promoting you to is past that."

Klein looked at Rada; by her expression, she was as puzzled as he was. "I'm afraid I'm not following, sire."

"How did you like Nilhand, Klein?" Aesir asked pointedly and stretched against the back of his chair once more, resting his elbows to his sides and making a steeple with his forefingers to rest against his lips.

The mouse's response was guarded. "I liked it well enough."

"And the northerners?" the prince pressed. "You seemed to have a good deal of respect for beasts that rebelled against their country."

It didn't feel like a trap, but Klein could sense there was something behind their conversation the royal mouse had not divulged yet. With a deep sigh, he replied. "I have respect for those brave enough to stand up for what is right. Courage is short in this world sometimes and under the right leader it can become something greater than itself." Aesir smiled and Klein continued. "The Nilhanders were wrong to rebel against the crown, yes, but they did so in the absence of a true leader. That has been rectified now with all your new plans and reforms for the state."

"So you approve of the palace construction and the stewardship I mentioned while we were in the north?"

"I do," Klein affirmed. "Nilhand needs a new source of pride and a governor not content to sit on a cushion sipping wine because it's their birthright."

A moment of tense silence followed. "Klein, I wish for you to be my Steward of Nilhand," Aesir said bluntly. "I want you to be the first Steward of the North."

"_Me?_ A stew… steward?" Klein gasped out. Looking into the astonished face of Rada, he shook his head. "Sire, I'm… but that's a position for a noble-"

"- A position for a loyal Eutrusian," Aesir interrupted, holding up his paw for silence. "You need not be of noble birth to know how to manage creatures and land.

"Which I know you can do," Aesir stated. "I looked into your old entrance application for the Royal Guard. You were a fieldpaw; a common labourer who no doubt harvested fields in all four of Eutrusia's states. You did not have a designated hometown, which means you were part of a seasonal workers' band. You had no family name, no lineage denoted, nor could you write your own name, as is clear by the 'x' you made as your mark." Klein grimaced at the reminder of his past and Rada reached over to give her husband's paw a reassuring squeeze.

"So, what of it?" Klein retorted with bite to his tone.

"I was impressed," Aesir stated. "You entered into the Guard at the age of seven and straight into the position of a page to the current captain- my grandfather. Positions such as that are normally reserved for noble sons. You must have done something to impress him, and Syr Donovan as it was he who pledged to your sponsorship when he was a lieutenant."

"I asked for help," Klein said quietly. "My father was an escaped oarslave. We worked for food and when my mother took ill, we didn't have any money to pay a healer for her. We were in Wesrus for the fall harvest and I walked to Arvendon Castle to get aid. It was the late Captain Martin who helped me and paid for a healer to save my mother. My Fa-" Klein stopped and blinked slowly. "My father asked, no begged, the captain to take me with him so I wouldn't have the life he did. He- I… yes, I entered the Guard at an early age and I've worked hard to make something of myself."

"And you have, lieutenant," Aesir said firmly. "Your dedication, honour and fortitude have won you this opportunity. You understand our politics and know the value of honest work. All of your experiences, qualities and talents are just what I am looking for as the crown's representative in Nilhand."

Klein stared at the prince in expectation of a bolt of laughter followed by the disclosure of a hidden jest; though the longer the lieutenant stared at Aesir, the more assured he was that this was not a joke and in fact a true offer of office. Turning his gaze towards his wife, he could see the excited twinkle to her eye and the way she held her paws over her mouth to cover her smile.

"This is quite the offer, sire," Klein said in the silence, trying to bide his time while his mind reeled with thoughts. "I'm deeply honoured you would consider me."

"It is I who am honoured to have such a beast in my service," Aesir said. "You will continue to hold an honorary position as a Lieutenant in the Guard, but your primary title will be henceforth the stewardship. Also, you will have to move to the northern states and take up residence at Caerhayes Palace."

"I don't know what to say. I hardly think that I'm qualified, but if you insist…"

"I do," Aesir said sternly. "As does the king and his council.

"So, what say you, Klein?" Aesir asked, rapping his knuckles off the table to assert his need for a decision. "Will you be Nilhand's steward?"

Klein exhaled loudly and stopped trying to hide the smile inching onto his features. Not trusting his voice, he looked at the prince and gave a firm nod.

"Right," Aesir laughed and rose from his chair. Klein and Rada clambered to their footpaws with him and Aesir extended his paw forward to the ascending mouse to seal the deal. "I will have the scribes draft up the papers and we shall meet in four days for your swearing in."

"Yes, sire," Klein said graciously shaking the royal mouse's paw and then bowing away. Putting an arm around Rada's shoulders, Klein grinned broadly at the soft peal of laughter that escaped her lips.

"Well, _Steward_ Klein I must bid you a fair day," Aesir said plainly and took his red cloak from the drying rack to settle over his shoulders once again. "And my thanks to you, _Lady_ Rada, for the wonderful meal. Oh, and Master Rayley?"

"Yes!" he called and popped his head between the rungs of the railing again.

"You'd better get packing those ships of yours-"

"Your Highness! Klein!" A shout came from outside the cottage and Olan swung the door open without so much as a knock. "News from the Eu," he said grimly. "The lords of Eurus just docked their barge."


	20. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Rain pummelled against the windows of the palace as Aesir strode through the corridors with a contingent of servants and advisors trotting in his wake. Flashes of lightning illuminated their forms against the walls from the leaded windows.

"Your Highness, the Guard have unloaded Baron Ulran and Lord Ulrick from their skiff and Lieutenants Malax and Evrol are accompanying them to the palace as we speak," Lord Conroy informed him hurriedly. Aesir frowned and continued to make adjustments to his dry clothing as he progressed towards his parents' chambers.

Conroy cleared his throat nervously in the lengthy silence that followed and watched Aesir twist a golden vambrace into place at his wrist. "It also appears the Baroness Dellia is amongst the company, sire."

Aesir hesitated his stride for the barest of moments. "My lady aunt accompanied them?"

"Yes, Highness. She is walking with them from the…"

"The summons was for only the baron and his son!" Aesir snapped before checking his tone. He was on edge with the forthcoming confrontation and could only guess what his father would be like. Having his aunt there would only make things harder on the king as he would not only be staring down a close friend, but also his own sister.

"See the baroness is made comfortable in Eurus' State Apartments," the prince ordered. "She is to be treated with all the grace due to her station. Is that understood?"

"Of course, sire."

Entering into the royal presence chamber, Aesir nodded to his father's own advisors hovering off to the side waiting for the king to emerge from his private rooms. They each bowed to the prince and Lord Naveen stepped forward from the group. Aesir waved his own servants back with a flick of his wrist and waited for the aging otter to make his way to him.

"Your Highness," Naveen said and bowed his head. "A grievous task ahead of us, I fear."

"Perhaps," Aesir mused. "Has the king given any orders yet?"

Naveen shook his head. "Only that you should join him in his private study upon your arrival, sire."

"Thank-you," Aesir said and allowed the otter to back away two paces before turning to the entryway of the monarchs' private chambers and nodded for the footbeasts to open the doors.

"Lord Conroy-" Aesir said over his shoulder as he stepped inside. "When the Eurians arrive at the palace, see Baron Ulran and his son are detained in the courtyard. My lord father and I will be there presently."

The door clicked shut; the prince exhaled loudly and walked down the receiving hall towards the opening to the chamber. Aesir paused under the archway and looked about the vacant room.

"Father?"

"Over here, Aesir," a tired voice called from the side room. A moment later, Matthias appeared holding a large open tome in his paws. "Come here, son," he added and motioned with his head for Aesir to join him in the study.

"Father, we don't have time for lessons right now," Aesir huffed and stomped into the lavish room. "The Eurians have arrived and…"

"Yes, Aesir - I know," Matthias interrupted him and held up his paw. "You think you are the only one informed about the goings-on of the city?"

"No, Father," Aesir relented, "but we must meet with them and get this business over with."

"Son, this is not a battle charge," his father instructed him and sat at his desk, laying the tome down on the polished wood in his descent. "Things like this must be approached carefully."

"Carefully?" Aesir gaped. "How _carefully _can you approach-"

"Do not forget you are accusing powerful nobles of crimes, Aesir," Matthias reminded him. "And on the words of commoners - you must allow the accused to trip up on their own and catch them in a lie."

Aesir dipped his head in acknowledgment and waited quietly for the king to say more. Matthias simply sighed and rubbed him face with his paw in an obvious show of stress. He hated dealing with lords who thought themselves over mighty. It was a trait he did not inherit from his father, Matteus. The old king relished in bullying creatures to his bidding; he had an uncanny talent of finding a creature at their weakest point and bending them to his rule.

Aesir sat in the chair opposite his father and brushed the fabric of his grey tunic flat across his left shoulder. "What are you going to say to them?" he pressed and took his coronet off his head to rest it on his knee. He hated wearing it, but knew he must for an occasion such as this.

"I am going to ask them their side of the story," Matthias said plainly. "I will address Ulran directly for sending Ulrick, but Ulrick must answer to the charges laid at his footpaws."

"Talk," Aesir grumbled and rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Aesir, talk," Matthias stressed and put on his crown. "Remember, son there are two sides to every story. You must hear both before you act. They may surprise you."

"Or tell you exactly what you already know," Aesir countered. "They took sixteen days to get here, Father. You and I both know it only takes half that time by barge if the rowers are pushed and take shifts so they move through the night. You don't think they were trying to cover their tracks?"

"Oh, most likely paying off servants and hushing up guards," Matthias chuckled at Aesir's straightforwardness. "They would have dispersed the most involved ones and told them to lay low for a while."

Aesir uttered a low growl.

"Enough of that, Aesir," Matthias asserted and rose to his footpaws. "You must control your anger, son. I know you feel strongly against these crimes because you dealt with it directly, but do yourself and me a favour by recalling Baron Ulran is whom I consider to be my closest friend _and_ your own aunt's husband…"

"Aunt Lia's here, Father," Aesir muttered and pushed himself up from his chair to tail the king into the main chamber. "She came with Ulran."

"Why would she… Ah, Dellia!" Matthias grumbled and lifted his crown from the velvet-lined box on his sideboard to place it on his head.

"I've ordered her to be escorted to Eurus' apartments," Aesir reassured him. "She won't be present for the questioning."

Matthias gave him a curt nod. "Does your mother know she's here?"

"I do not know. When word came to me of their arrival I returned to the palace immediately to seek you out.

"Have you decreed their charges yet?" Aesir inquired, focusing the subject and slipping his own coronet on his head.

"Ulran is guilty in the corruption of a royal command," Matthias stated. "His crime is punishable by law in the form of fines and reduction of power, but it is Ulrick who murdered a beast under the guise of royal approval." The two royal mice walked down the receiving hall towards the doorway. "And murder is a capital offence, let alone its misrepresentation of-" Matthias paused before the exit and grasped Aesir's forearm to halt his advance. "This may not be a pleasant meeting, Aesir. Emotions will rise, but you _must_ remember your place."

"And what is my place for this particular meeting?" Aesir asked. "Am I a prince or a captain?"

"You are the Red Prince," Matthias chuckled at him, using Aesir's fabled name. "You will support me in my decisions as a son and prince should, but you will be the one to reinforce our strength as is your station as my Captain of the Guard."

"That didn't answer the question, Father!" Aesir chortled as Matthias led him out of the chamber.

Matthias narrowed his eyes and rapped his paw on the painted oak for the footbeasts to open the doors. "Hold your tongue and if they think they can challenge us, we both will escort them out to the green."

* * *

Chains clanked and chinked around the pulley wheel as the portcullis of Vasilis' eastern entrance was hoisted up by the gatebeasts to allow the arriving party entrance to the palace. The king and the prince were waiting under a heavy canvas canopy to shield them from the elements at the top of the stairs leading to the Grand Gallery when the Eurians appeared in the courtyard. Baron Ulran and his company were surrounded first by his own personal retinue and then encircled by the Royal Guard. Aesir immediately picked out the noble mouse, frowning at his limping gait and the frail looking creature slumped against his arm in a pitiful attempt to stay upright.

"Shall we arrest them and place them under guard in the dungeon, Your Majesty?" Kennard asked and gripped his spear haft in anticipation.

Matthias turned his head slightly to observe the bodyguard and cleared his throat. "No," he said shortly. "It is the duty of the Captain of the Royal Guard to collect accused nobility."

At the king's nod, Aesir slipped out from under the covering and descended the stairs to greet the gathering. His red cloak whipped about his body in the wind and the thunder rumbled overhead, the deluge of rain soaking him clean to the fur. Behind him, two bannerbeasts carrying Eutrusia's royal standard trotted in the prince's shadow.

"Your Grace Baron Ulran, Baroness Dellia," the prince proclaimed over the heavy showers as he approached. Ulran looked up from his charge and bowed his head in respect while Dellia tried to bob a wobbly curtsy, but her husband pulled her back to her footpaws.

"Don't, Dellia," Ulran warned her. "You're too weak." A spear point pressed against the baron's right cheek.

"Show your respect, traitor," Lieutenant Malax growled out and immediately an Eurian guard drew his sword on the experienced warbeast. "I wouldn't suggest that, lad. Not if you want to draw another breath."

"I wouldn't doubt his ability, Malax," Ulran replied coldly, turning his head so the blade of the pole weapon indented his skin. "I trained these creatures myself and they are skilled swordsbeasts." He paused for a moment to look the hedgehog up and down. "And remember you only still have that let arm of yours because I was at your side in the Battle of Wesrus…"

"Stand down, lieutenant!" Aesir warned and pushed the spear haft away from the noble mouse. Scowling at the hedgehog, Aesir added dangerously, "You point a weapon in the presence of Baroness Dellia again and you will lose more by my wrath than the baron's."

"Apologies, Your Highness," Malax muttered and bowed away a step. Aesir gave the Royal Guards a stern look and waved them all back a step.

"Baron Ulran," Aesir addressed him coldly. "I ask you order your personal bodyguards to put up their weapons and remain at ease."

A haughty laugh sounded from the back of the company. Aesir raised his chin to look over the heads and shoulders of the Eurians to view a heavy set mouse chuckling to himself.

"Is there something you find amusing, syr?" Aesir inquired, narrowing his eyes and trying to put a name to the face mocking him.

"Nothing, Your Highness," he laughed and waved his paw. "Just that the rumours of you are true."

"Ulrick!" Ulran snapped and glared at his son. Turning back to the prince, he added a hasty introduction. "My son, Lord Ulrick of Ruarden Manor, sire."

Aesir gave the barest of nods and fought the urge sneer at the beast. "And what rumours would that be, my lord?"

"I do not repeat idle gossip, my liege," Ulrick replied snidely and smirked when Aesir glowered at him. "I mean, Your Highness."

"Your Highness," Dellia said faintly and looked up at her nephew from beneath her cloak hood. "Aesir- I must retire to my chambers…"

"Of course, Aunt Dellia," Aesir said quickly. Gulping down his astonishment at her ailing appearance he waved her pawmaids forward. "Take the baroness to her chambers at once." Ulran took a step to guide his wife towards their apartments, but the prince stepped forward to halt him. "Not so fast, my lord baron," the prince commanded, squaring his shoulders in preparation of the arrest. "By order of His Majesty, King Matthias of Eutrusia, I, Prince Aesir Etifedd, Captain of the Royal Guard, hereby bring you, Baron Ulran Neefray of Eurus, and your son, Lord Ulrick Neefray of Ruarden Manor, under the custody of the Royal Guard on charges of-"

"No!" Dellia gasped and flashed her eyes to her nephew. "Aesir - no, you cannot, you…"

"It's alright, Lia," Ulran mumbled and kissed her paw as the Royal Guards came forward to escort the mice. "We talked about this; you knew this would happen once we got here."

Twisting around to Aesir, Ulran whispered. "Your Highness, I must speak to your father in private."

"I'm afraid you are past that privilege, Your Grace," Aesir replied and inhaled deeply to strengthen his resolve. "You and Lord Ulrick will be tried by a council of your peers… immediately."

"Prince Aesir, please," Ulran pleaded and shifted his weight off his injured leg. "It is something of grave importance- you must be warned…"

"Against what?" Aesir pressed and reached for his aunt, gathering her in his arms and shielding her from the elements with his body. "Your disregard for royal command?" Then looking over the baron's shoulder to Ulrick, he derided, "Or perhaps it is to warn us about your son's _heinous_ actions. Either way, Baron Ulran, your warnings come too late."

"Your Highness-"

"Save your words for the court, Your Grace."

"Aesir, please," Dellia breathed. "Aesir, he is your uncle- please listen to him… there is danger in Eurus…"

"Yes, there is," Aesir scoffed and gently handed her off to her servants before turning to his Guards. "Take the accused into the Grand Gallery for the king."

* * *

The two nobles stood before the dais in the Grand Gallery; all around them select chancellors and high ranking nobles murmured about them as the king sat before the court. To his left, Valina was poised in her throne beside him, her face flat and expressionless, while Aesir stood at his father's right, his left paw resting on his sword hilt while the right he had hooked into his belt. The prince's blue eyes were hard as frozen ice- their gaze shifting back and forth between the two nobles.

"Ulran we have been over this already!" Matthias snapped and rubbed his face in frustration. "You are charged with corruption of a royal command- how do you find yourself?"

"Your Majesty, if you would only let me explain," Ulran pleaded and shook his head in his own vexation. "There are things you need to know that not the whole court needs-"

"You are talking in circles," Matthias rallied and hammered his paw down on the armrest of the throne. "Answer the question!"

"Yes!" the baron exclaimed. "I did not go north to Nilhand myself- I sent my son in my stead." More whispers fluttered about the present creatures. "But I had my reasons- if you would only listen…"

"Reasons?" the king snorted, tilting against the back of his throne. "Well, let's hear them, Ulran."

The mouse looked from side to side. "Perhaps somewhere a little more private, Majesty."

Lightning streaked the sky outside the windows behind the dais, causing Aesir to briefly glance behind him at the rainwater running in bands down the glass. As focused as he was on the task at paw, he was anxious that Cerys was not safely behind the walls of the palace. In her absence, he and his father had been informed the princess went to receive the young Lord Talanis by the docks. Although she had taken guards with her, Cerys should have been back by then and her lack of presence was making the prince uneasy. At the sound of his father's voice, Aesir's attention returned to the beasts before him.

"Whatever reasons they may be, you can say in front of your peers, my lord baron."

Ulran opened his mouth to speak and then stopped himself, tapping his finger to his lips as if banishing a natural response and coming up with another. "I am simply trying to teach my son the ways and responsibilities of the baronage, sire."

"I don't care if your son doesn't know how to tie his tunic," Matthias growled back, holding on to his temper by the barest thread. "When I charge you with a mission to act on my behalf, it is your sorry hide I want to go and deal with it, not your trumped-out whelp!"

Ulran only nodded quietly.

"I cannot believe I am having this conversation with you, Baron Ulran," Matthias stated with clear hurt in his tone. "I, who trusted you when no other beast would in the uprising of Eurus, placed my faith and love in you. We have seen each other through good times and bad… We are like brothers… I even allowed you to have the paw of my very own sister! And this is how you honour my trust? Toss around my order like a pawmaid's wish and give it to your son to botch? A simple inquiry turned murder, turned rebellion?

"Thousands of lives could have been wasted because of this and the only reason you can give me is you are instructing your son?" The king paused for a moment to let his words carry weight before proceeding. "I should have your title for this, Ulran. Unfortunately, that will not undo what has been done. Always thinking like a Neefray- always your kin think to their own aspirations and comforts…"

"Dellia is dying, Matthias!" Ulran shouted, unable to hold his tongue any longer. Lifting his eyes to glare at his friend, he added, "I was about to depart for Nilhand when she took a turn for the worse. They did not know how long she would have, so I sent Ulrick in my stead and stayed by her side." The Gallery buzzed again with hushed words at the baron's informal address of the king and his confessed information. Holding his paws wide and flapping them to his sides in defeat, Ulran sighed. "What I did was rash, but not in contempt. Please Matth-, please, Your Majesty, hear me out on this…"

"What do you mean my - Baroness Dellia is dying," Matthias choked out and Valina stiffened in her chair.

Ulran took four steps forward to the bottom of the dais stair and replied in a low voice. "She has been struggling with her health for the past few seasons, Matthias. The healers only recently diagnosed her as having some sort of wasting sickness."

"Wasting sickness?" It was the queen's voice that gasped beneath her breath. "And yet you let her travel here?"

"She wouldn't listen to me and stay behind in Lysium," Ulran said plainly. Staring the king in the eye, he uttered, "Why do you think it took us so long to answer your summons? We had to row slow and recess for long periods in between travel days."

Matthias shook his head and struggled to hold his composure. "And this is why you sent, Ulrick? To be by Dellia's side in case she passed to the Dark Forest."

"Yes," Ulran said, breathing a sigh of relief that finally a creature was listening to him. "I never dreamed this would have-"

"You never dreamed?" the king sniped. "Never dreamed that your son would be so bold as to commit murder while on a mission from the king and declare it royal decree?"

The word murder made Ulran's head snap up in remembrance of the danger he had imprisoned in Calsley Castle. "Your Majesty," he hastened, "Prince Aesir, I must talk to you in private about an urgent matter - please it -"

"After we are done here," Matthias asserted and motioned behind his friend to where Ulrick was standing at ease between two Royal Guards. "First we must discuss the offenses charged to you son."

"But, sire you must -"

"I must _nothing,"_ the king roared and pushed himself up from his throne. "Between the pair of you, disturbance scorched through the north of my kingdom… an innocent maiden was killed-"

"They were only common beasts," Ulrick piped up from his position. Immediately, all eyes went to the heavy set mouse that stood smugly with his paws folded across his chest. "They can be made examples of."

_"They?"_ Matthias questioned and looked to his right at Aesir. "There were more than just the squirrelmaid?"

"A few peasants," Ulrick waved off. "Nothing of consequence."

"They are still Eutrusians," Aesir growled and took a dangerous step towards Ulrick. "Who are you to play the Seasons with their lives?"

"Wait, Aesir," Matthias said quickly and held up a paw to stay his action. "Ulrick, are you admitting you killed the northerners?"

Ulran looked backwards at his son and shook his head in warning. Ulrick just smiled at him.

"Well, you weren't going to do anything about it," Ulrick said pointedly. "They weren't going to give up the location of the mine. I killed those beasts to illustrate the power of your crown. I did it a service…"

_"A service?"_ Matthias bellowed and began to descend the dais before Valina rose from her throne to hold his upper arm.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Ulrick nodded. "They say there is weakness in the crown. Your own son chose to fight without a weapon when called to war. There is talk your line is faltering…"

"Pick your ground Ulrick and we'll see who falters," Aesir said coldly, jumping from the dais and striding over in challenge. "Draw your weapon and we'll see who is weaker."

"Aesir, stand down," Matthias said quickly, turning his attention back to Ulran. "You knew he killed those creatures without decree or authority?"

Ulran just sighed and stared at his son. Ulrick was always too rash; he didn't think, he just did. Ulran had hoped going on a crown mission would have taught his son some sort of restraint and use for tact, but his efforts were in vain. Ulrick had learned nothing, and more importantly, Ulran was not sure how much longer he could protect his son.

"Your Majesty, there is something else much more dangerous than Ulrick in Eutrusia right now-"

Matthias opened his mouth to respond when the doors to the western chambers were flung upon and Cerys was announced to the gathering.

"I'm so sorry I'm late," Cerys said after performing a sweeping curtsy. "Lord Talanis' barge was overdue-" The princess stopped her excuses and gave Matthias a confused look when she noticed Aesir standing off the dais a few paces away from a thickly built mouse. Valina made a gesture for Cerys to join her on the platform, when the heavy set creature moved into her way. Cerys looked at the stranger with apprehension and resisted the urge to shiver. She did not like the cold look in his eyes or his position between herself and her family.

"So this is the Princess Cerys," Ulrick mused and looked her up and down. "This is my betrothed."

* * *

In the woods east of the Aurelian city walls, the form of a mousemaid dragged herself across the sodden forest floor. Her body was completely covered by a dark traveling cloak- the only part exposed was a single lock of silvery-white headfur dangling from the opening of the hood.

"Must get away," she gasped and pulled herself along by her scraped elbows, her mutilated legs leaving two furrows in the dirt behind her. "Must get away…"

Breaths of hot air wheezed behind her and the maiden's eyes went wide with terror. A loud sob exploded from her throat. "Please- don't. I c-can't… I don't want to hurt anymore!"

Out of the shadows a black cloaked figured limped towards her.

"Please, Dracul," she begged, ceasing her movements and hiding her face in her arms. "Just let me die!"

"You wanted the Fates knowledge," the creature rasped out, dropping painfully to a knee and retrieving his dirk from the folds of his cloak. Wrenching her left arm away from her body, the beast pressed the edge against her skin and smiled as she screeched in pain. "Fates betold the sights beheld."

As the maiden's blood flowed from her wound the cloaked beast closed its eyes and watched the mists and shadows swirl around his vision. As always he saw the banners, the battle, the mouse with the same red eyes… but he needed more. More sight, more blood. Raising his dirk aloft, he stabbed down into the back of the mousemaid and felt her twitch against the blade impaled in her spine. He didn't dare open his eyes to see if she was dead. He didn't dare miss the vision if he had one.

Blood bubbled about his claws and the hilt of his dirk. "Dracul gives blood, oh Fa-" the vermin jerked and twisted to the side.

A loud clap echoed in his ears the sound of a gasping breath. Darkness… darkness… shadows, eerie green light. A mouse slipped up from the circular pool of water into the rocky cavern. A mouse with red eyes.

"No!" Dracul gasped and clambered backwards. No woodlander had ever entered the Gates. No woodlander had ever… not the red eyes. The red eyes could not enter there. Never could he allow it. He must stop it before he reached them- before the ratlords could be in danger.

Snarling in anger the creature, trotted forward in its awkward gait west towards the edge of the forest, leaving it's kill behind it. The mousemaid had used herself well to trick the guard into opening the prison door; even more so that she had been able to kill the vole and unlock Dracul's cell as well. She had snuck them out of the castle and showed him the direction of where he could find the red eyes. He had used her blood for his sight, keeping him strong and not weakened by bloodletting. Now her purpose was served and she was no longer needed; he could leave her behind for the maggots to feast on.

Coming to the edge of the forest line, the creature hissed and reared back against the shadow of a pine tree. Peering around the trunk, he saw the red and gold standard fluttering above the city gates. The sword and scroll.

The rain finally soaked the worsted cloak through and the hood slide off the creature's scarred head to reveal its menacing eyes. Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating Palace Vasilis jetting up high on the sea cliff. The black pine marten licked its lips and leered at the structure.

That's where it would find him. That's where it would find the red eyes.


	21. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

"So this is the Princess Cerys," Ulrick mused and looked her up and down. "This is my betrothed."

Cerys started at Ulrick's declaration and let her eyes grow wide in brief astonishment. She did not recognize him at all from court and although his face was comely enough, his crass and incongruous behaviour made him anything but handsome.

"Be… what?" the princess stammered and blinked her eyes furiously as she tried to comprehend the information sprung on her. Betrothal had been the last thing on her mind when she entered the Gallery to be with her family for the hearing; a hearing involving dire charges against two of Eutrusia's premier nobles. She had been preparing herself to hear Matthias give a death sentence, not a complete stranger to approach her and announce the two of them affianced. "Who are you, my lord?"

"I am Lord Ulrick Neefray of Ruarden Manor, Your Highness," Ulrick declared. "Your future husband."

"Future hu-" she gaped and flashed her eyes up to her family on the dais, settling on Matthias. _"My future husband?"_

"My father did not lie to me," Ulrick grinned and cocked his eyebrows upwards in recognition. "You are a beauty," and he took another step towards the surprised maiden.

"Lord Ulrick- halt!" Aesir ordered, but the mouse ignored the prince's statement.

"Ulrick, that's enough!" Ulran called and tried to go forward, getting only a stride towards his son before Lieutenant Malax hindered his advance by blocking his path. "Ulrick, leave the princess alone!" Still the mouse did not heed the calls.

That was enough for Aesir. Snapping his claws, the prince shouted at the guards standing behind the accused nobles, "Guards! Restrain him!"

Loukin and Kennard immediately strode forward and clasped their paws on the lord's shoulders, holding Ulrick from going any closer to the princess. Glaring at Aesir, the lord seethed, "Is it now illegal look upon my property?"

"The princess Cerys is not your property," Aesir sneered and curled his nose up in distaste. Gripping his sword hilt and scabbard, the prince proclaimed. "She will _never_ be yours."

"That is not what the king decided," Ulrick replied in an even tone, completely undisturbed at Aesir's growing tension or the grasp of the guards on his shoulders. "The king and my lord father have already signed the papers."

"I can undo that joining as quickly as I made it, Ulrick," Matthias said coldly.

"The ink is dry, Your Majesty," Ulrick responded and smiled slyly at the maiden before him. "She's mine."

"I am not _property_, as you call it, to be bought and sold, my lord," Cerys defended herself, causing a hum of whispers around the court. "Lest of all the chattel of a disgraced creature."

He laughed at her. "Disgraced? Ah, Your Highness, that depends on the view."

"Silence!" Aesir roared and moved between them, shielding Cerys behind him. "Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth, Ulrick, or I will remove it."

Ulrick sneered at the prince. Aesir was taller than he and perhaps quicker with his blade, but Ulrick was broader, stronger, his attacks would be more forceful, his strikes more painful.

_Aye,_ the lord thought, _it would make an interesting match._

"Remove it?" Ulrick challenged. "And dishonour your blade with the blood of an accused _felon_ by cutting out my tongue?"

"Not at all," Aesir replied. "I'll rip it out with my bare paws if you ever so much as look at Princess Cerys again."

Ulrick tilted his head to the side. "I can still see her, Your Highness," he taunted.

"Ulrick," his father said sternly from behind the lieutenant hedgehog. "Stop while you're ahead."

"Impudent scum," Aesir snarled and pulled his blade a paw width from its sheath. "You dare challenge me?" Cerys laid a gentle paw on his sword arm to halt any further action, as Loukin and Kennard pulled Ulrick back towards Ulran. Her brow furrowed at the feel of his muscles hardening beneath her touch and the visible pulse to his jawline where he was grinding his teeth.

"Aesir?" she whispered to him and drew a short intake of breath when he turned sharply to her. She had never seen him look so furious before.

"Let's get you up to the dais where I can keep you safe," the prince stated and thrust his sword back down into the scabbard once more. Instead of holding out his arm for Cerys, Aesir took her paw in his and tugged her forward, ignoring the inquisitive looks from the others at their informal touch. Cerys did not protest and gathered her skirts in her free paw to trot alongside Aesir's long strides to the king and queen.

"Just stay behind me," Aesir said quietly to her at the bottom of the platform's steps. "I won't let him near you."

"They are just a desperate's words," Cerys put in, trying to ease Aesir's wrath before it became too strong. "I'm not in danger, Aesir."

"I know you're not," he affirmed. "But Ulrick will be if he dares to slight you again."

"Intimate conversations are scandalous when they are with another's betrothed," Ulrick proclaimed. "Your Majesty, I believe the agreement was for an unsullied maiden…"

Aesir spun around to face the arrogant lord; pulling his sword from his scabbard in a single motion, the metal ringing through the tense air of the hall. At Aesir's movement, the Royal Guards stepped into a ready stance, their spears lowered in a unified clamor of stomping footpaws and knocking steel as they awaited orders.

"You dare insult the princess' honour?" he glowered and took a menacing step forward. "What did I tell you about your tongue, Ulrick- do you really hold such little value in your speech?"

"Cerys," the queen called, beckoning the princess up the stairs to her and away from the danger. Quickly, she made the climb and two guards stepped in front of the two royal females.

"Aesir, stand down!" Matthias commanded and descended two stairs of the dais. "Ulran- check your son. He insulted my family just there."

"Ulrick, keep quiet," Ulran spat and craned his head to the right to view his son. "Stop acting as though you own the world-"

"Ah, but I-"

"You're creature isn't here, Ulrick," Ulran snapped, wheeling on his son to glare him into submission. "Put all of it behind you- _now."_

"Creature?" Aesir questioned. "What creature?"

Ulran took a shuddering breath before turning back to the dais. "It's what I need to speak to you in private about, Your Highness." Looking around the Grand Gallery at the nobles, he reiterated. "Please-"

"Speak here or not at all, Baron Ulran," Matthias ruled and crossed his paws over his chest. "You have already told me my sister is dying- what other ill news could you possibly bring that is worse than that?"

"I would tell you in private-"

"You will tell me here," the king commanded. "And you will tell me now."

"Ulrick and Ulyssa have found some sort of vermin seer," Ulran relented, shifting his weight off his injured leg at the remembrance of his attacker. He paused before saying more. Looking about the room, he saw too many of the nobles were listening eagerly- too many were leaning forward straining to hear what he had to say.

"Well?" Matthias pressed and tipped his right paw at his friend. "What kind of vermin seer?"

"Some sort of... I'm not sure what it was," Ulran confessed. "It was deformed, mutilated really. Perhaps it was a fox or a weasel at one point..."

"And this atrocity is enough to stir up this kind of trouble?" the king scoffed. "We've seen your son clearly has no judgement, Ulran, but has he run mad as well?"

"Ulrick is not mad, Your Majesty," Ulran defended his son weakly. _Though this would be a hell of a lot easier if he were..._

"So then tell me why I should care about what some locked away vermin muttering nonsense has on the chaos your son caused my kingdom?"

"It said things," Ulran said plainly. "It told Ulyssa and Ulrick things."

"What things?"

Ulran looked pleadingly from Aesir to Matthias and back to the prince once more. They wouldn't believe him even if he told them the truth. More and more the vermin's curse circulated through his mind. _Those you love will not listen…_

He could see the hurt in Matthias' eyes; the pain he'd put there by telling him his sister was fading away. Mentally, he berated himself for not informing Matthias sooner of Dellia's condition, but she had made him promise to keep it silent. Her whole life she had been poked and prodded by healers and she did not wish to spend the rest of her days being a broken thing to be fixed again. They both knew if Matthias caught wind of her sickness, he would order her to been seen by any beast fool enough to think they could cure her. For love of his wife, Ulran had agreed to the secret, taking her into his arms and saying her there was nothing to divulge; that she was going to get better and that was that. He wasn't going to let her go. Ever.

"Baron Ulran," Aesir voiced loudly and flicked his sword blade to catch the mouse's attention. Ulran started out of his daydream at the flash of metal and settled his sight on the prince. "Your king is waiting for your reply."

"I don't know exactly what was said," Ulran confessed and turned back to Ulrick. "Only it was enough to fill their heads with folly."

"Ah!" Matthias let out a frustrated grumble. "I demand to know what it said-"

"Where is the creature?" Aesir interrupted, duty levelling his head and cooling his blood. "Ulran, where did you last see this creature?" Scowling at Ulrick, the prince added, "When did you last converse with it, Ulrick?"

"The creature and my sister, Lady Ulyssa of Craggen Keep, are both held in cells within Calsley Castle," Ulran said loud enough for the entire gathering to hear. "They stay there awaiting the king's judgement."

"And Syr Petyr and their son, Master Penlar?" Matthias questioned. "Where are they while their wife and mother rot in your dungeon?"

"They are at home in Craggen Keep, sire," Ulran proclaimed. "Ulyssa has been at her apartments in Lysium this past season. Petyr and her are-" he dwelled for a moment to think of the right word. "-distanced, Your Majesty."

"Fates' Fire," Matthias swore under his breath and shook his head. Was there no end to the trouble? "Lady Ulyssa and this seer will be brought to justice, but first we must deal with the charges before us," he decreed, bringing the court back to purpose once more. "Baron Ulran, as defensible as your reasons may be, they still do not account for the action of events they caused.

"You took it upon yourself to warp my orders without consent or so much as a mention to me you were doing so. For the love of the Seasons, even your report was deceitful in that your chose to refrain from informing me that it was not you, but Ulrick who travelled north. Had things stayed in a positive light, I may have excused the neglect; but as it is, I cannot ignore the events your decision spurred into action."

Ulran bowed his head in acknowledgement.

"And you, Lord Ulrick," Matthias addressed. "You, my lord, are up against much darker allegations: Murder of an innocent, disturbance of the king's peace, _killing_ while acting as an envoy which is against royal law- all of which led to the brutal slaying of Syr Ettore and pushed Nilhand into open rebellion, endangering the lives of the Royal Guard and that of the Etifedd."

Cerys watched from between the shoulders of the guards as the king announced the charges. The Baron of Eurus kept his head low, respectfully accepting the Matthias' accusations, while Ulrick stretched up taller and held himself in an aura of self-regarded importance. Had they not looked alike, she would have sworn they were not related as their mannerism were as different as winter to summer. Where Ulran showed respect, Ulrick showed challenge. Even as Matthias finished his speech, the baron bowed low to his friend and yet his son barely bent at the hip. Who was Ulrick to think he need not show his sovereign proper reverence? Who was he to think him so high above his company?

Ulrick stretched upright again, locking his eyes on Cerys and huffing his expression into a confident smirk. The princess shivered at his stare and turned her head slightly. There was something about his eyes she didn't trust and his smile was unnerving. It was like when he looked at her, he looked right through her, not seeing who she was, only what she was.

"You will both be confined to your State Apartments-" Matthias asserted, holding up his left paw to silence the immediate protest from the present lords and chancellors. "-for this evening until you hear your sentences on the morrow. As it is, you are both not attainted _yet_ and are due the luxuries your titles command, though know your privileges are removed. You will be under guard and no beast will carry messages of any kind to you, nor will you be allowed visitors. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," both nobles answered at once.

"Lord Naveen," the king said sharply and the elderly otter bustled forward from the fray and bowed before the dais.

"Your Majesty."

"Have my personal healers attend the Baroness Dellia immediately," he ordered. "I want a report on her condition within the next bell. And Prince Aesir?" Aesir turned slightly and looked up over his shoulder at his father. "Get these two creatures out of my sight. I can't stand to look at them any longer today."

"Lieutenant Malax," Aesir called. "Take a score of Royal Guards and escort the Baron of Eurus and the Lord of Ruarden to their chambers. Set up a sentry at every exit."

"Yes, Your Highness."

The royal family stayed until Ulran and Ulrick were guided out of the Gallery, before Matthias adjourned the hearing council until the morning's sentencing meeting and waved his family to follow him to their apartments.

Aesir waited until they were out of hearing distance for the other lords before striding to the head of their column to confront the king.

"You should have ended it, Father," Aesir growled. "You should have had it over with today."

"Not now, Aesir," Matthias said sternly and continued to walk at a fast pace. "I must think on this."

"There's nothing to think about!" the prince responded firmly. "At least not with Ulrick- 'Gates, he even _insulted _Cerys, and announced them-"

"Enough, Aesir!" Matthias sniped and shot Aesir a hard glare. "Think with your head, son. Ulrick is up to something. We need to think of what."

Entering into the royal presence chamber, the king discharged all their servants so the family could converse alone.

Before anybeast could speak, Cerys interjected, "I'm betrothed? I'm betrothed to… to Ulrick?"

"Yes," Matthias sighed and sat down at the table before the northern hearth. "Ever since you and Aesir ran into the corsairs on the beach. Why do you think your tutors have been focusing your studies on Eurus?"

"When were you going to tell me?" she asked, a hint of betrayal in her voice. "Father, when were you going to tell me you were g-giving me away?"

"Cerys, I'm not giving you away," Matthias grumbled. "It's marriage, not a discard of rotten wool."

"But you would be sending me away," she said softly. "I would have to leave…"

"… leave Vasilis and take up residence at Ruarden, yes," the king snorted and then rubbed his face in frustration. "Cerys, I am sorry you had to hear of the news this way- it was not how your mother or I intended you to find out, but you are a princess of marital age. You had to know your betrothal would be coming up; this should not be a shock to you."

"Yes, but…" she contested and looked at Aesir where he stood off to the side, staring at her with a blank expression. _Ulrick's not who I thought… who I hoped to marry…_

At her silence, Aesir spoke up. "Father, you can't be seriously still considering this match. You cannot expect Cerys to marry… _that!"_

"I did," Matthias exhaled. "But tomorrow's sentencing will be the deciding factor when it comes to that ruling."

"What do you mean?" Aesir demanded. "You can't possibly assume-"

"If we, the lords and council, decide Ulrick is to be put to death, than this conversation is null and void," the king voiced strongly. "If he is saved from the axebeast, by some miracle, then an alliance with him is more imperative then ever- for the sake of your own hide."

"My hide does not need a marriage to hide behind," Aesir countered.

"No, but your kingdom might!" Matthias rallied. "Ulrick will be Baron of Eurus once Ulran passes to the Dark Forest and then you will have another Neron on your paws with private army and enough gold to pay them. Eurus rebelled once already when denied a stake in the royal house and who is to say they won't do it again?

"A marriage between Cerys and Ulrick will give them enough inclusion to remain loyal to you, yet because of Cerys's unique situation in our family, none of their children could contest you for the crown. Do you not see the advantages?"

"So, I'm a pawn," Cerys muttered and Valina put a comforting arm around her daughter's shoulders. "I'm nothing but a keystone in a peace bridge." Despite herself she looked up at Aesir. _Please do something,_ her eyes pleaded to him.

"Father, you have to break the betrothal," Aesir said holding his arms wide and looking the king straight in the eyes. "Please, Father."

"Aesir," Matthias sighed remembering how Aesir and Cerys played about the beach together, danced together, attended charities together; always together. Maybe it was more than a passing attraction between them. Perhaps his son could not control his feelings for her like he had assured him he was trying to. "Aesir, focus on the nobles' sentencing and let me worry about Cerys."

"Cerys, are you all right?" Valina said quietly as she felt the maid lean against her.

"A sudden head pain," Cerys mumbled and held her head with her left paw. Glancing at Aesir she felt her breath catch in her throat as his expression hardened with concern at her pale features. "Perhaps, I'm just a little overwhelmed."

"Go to your chambers and rest," the queen said gently and looked the rain still beating on the leaded windows from the storm. "You were standing on those docks in the dampness for two bells waiting for Talanis' barge to row in. The last thing we need is for you to catch a fever."

"Yes, Mother," she said dutifully and looked back at Matthias. "Will you excuse me, Father?"

"Of course, Cerys," he nodded. "Repose the rest of the day if you wish. We will see you at the evening meal-"

There was a loud knock and at Matthias call, the footbeast entered. "Beggin' your pardon, Your Majesties, Your Highnesses; but the chancellors and lords of council are waiting to speak with you on other matters of state, my king."

"A king's work is never done," Matthias mumbled, rising from his chair and outstretching his paw to Valina. "Will you join me, my queen? Between the two of us, we should be able get through it all that much faster."

"Of course, my lord," Valina smiled. Giving Cerys's paw a reassuring squeeze she took Matthias' arm and the two royals exited the chamber. Once they were through the double doors, the servants of the prince and princess tried to slip in, but Aesir waved them off.

"Leave us for a moment," he asserted and quickly they obeyed, each with a curtsy or a bow.

"Shall I escort you to your rooms, Cerys?" Aesir asked softly and moved to stand in front of her. "You need to rest."

"So do you." Cerys reached up and brushed flat a worried furrow in his brow. "Aesir, you look exhausted."

"Strained, yes," he corrected her. "But I suppose that comes when dealing with traitorous nobles." Exhaling loudly, he twisted around and slumped down into the armchair behind him. "I just have a lot on my mind."

"Can I help?"

Aesir beheld her sincerely. "Cerys, I… no, Cerys. Once Father and I are done with those snivelling Eurians, then I will be myself again." Taking a deep breath he thought, _once I know you're mine forever, I will relax._

"You aren't being fair, Aesir," Cerys said sternly. "Baron Ulran is Aunt Dellia's husband- Father's close friend. He taught me how to dance a Eurian Wheel… he-" she trailed off for a moment to collect herself. "He's not a bad beast, Aesir and you know it."

"I never said he was, Cerys," Aesir agreed and took off his coronet to casually hook it onto the arm of the chair. "But he did go against Father's wishes- the order of the king and he must be punished. Ulrick-" the prince snorted in disgust. "Ulrick is a different matter altogether."

"And that's what has you worried?" she broached and took a step before him. "I thought you and Father have proclaimed him a traitor…"

"Yes, but do you not see the ramifications of his potential sentence?"

"I understand under Eutrusian law, murderers and traitors pay for their crimes with their lives." Her speech was clear and strong.

"Cerys- you don't understand," Aesir grumbled and rose from the chair. Pacing to the hearth and then back to the table the king sat at, Aesir placed his paws wide on the polished surface to lean into his stare of her. "To you, life is carefree and easy. You go about your duties with a smile and laugh at jests made only for your pleasure. You have no idea the pressure of ruling a kingdom- the pressure of _learning_ to rule a kingdom."

"No, I'm not learning to be a king," she argued. "And yes, you have graver responsibilities than I, Aesir, but you do not need to belittle me!"

"I'm not trying to belittle you, Cerys. I only meant to illustrate the point that you will never have to make this kind of decision and you should be thankful for it. I was the beast directly involved with this matter from the start and the one to put forth the charges. Tomorrow morning, Father and the council will discuss what _should_ be done with Ulrick, but ultimately the decision rests with me. I will be the creature to tip the scales and... Great Seasons, at least when Father makes this kind of ruling he has Mother to lean on for support! What do I have- this cloak? This sword? This coronet?"

"You can lean on me, Aesir," Cerys said softly. "I will help you in any way I can, but I can't do anything if you wouldn't let me." At his silence, she pressed, "How will you rule tomorrow?"

"I'm not sure," he said truthfully. "This is my first dealing with rebellious nobles and I am constantly second guessing my own thoughts because I am worried they will not be the best decisions for the realm!" As he spoke, Aesir's tone hardened from unsure to anger.

"Why would you question your reasoning, Aesir?" Cerys countered. "You've always had sound judgement- why would you doubt yourself now of all time?"

"Because all I want to do is drag that eel of a mouse onto the scaffold and swing the blade myself!" Aesir roared and swatted a silver chalice onto the floor. "My heart is telling me to just rid Eutrusia of him and future problems he is bound to cause _me_ once I succeed Father to the crown and Ulrick takes the baronial collar from Ulran. But then my mind is holding me back-" Aesir took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before continuing. "If I press for his head and Father and the council rules in favour of it, Ulran will lose his only son, his only child. The Neefray line will die out and then it will be forever written I killed off the last descendant of the very family who aided ours to safety."

"And Ulrick would forever be known as a traitor unworthy to carry his family's name."

"Perhaps," Aesir relented. "Yet I still will feel as though I have spat at his forebeasts generosity."

"That was centuries ago, Aesir," Cerys soothed and watched him huff at her response and twist away to pace before the fire once more. "You cannot help how Ulrick has turned out no more than his dead ancestors."

Her words of comfort landed on deaf ears. "The Neefray brothers were sailors who owned the very ship Marcena's family boarded to cross the sea to our country. Without them, our line would have surely died out from plague with the rest of the creatures. We owe them our very lives…"

"Your ancestors gave them a baronage that made them wealthy beyond measure," Cerys snapped. "You owe them nothing- you owe Ulrick _nothing."_

"Strong words for a princess," Aesir chuckled and turned to look at her again. "That's not like you to be so ruthless, Cerys."

"I wouldn't call common sense _ruthless_, Aesir," she said plainly and raised her chin slightly. "Ulrick is a threat to all my family- to Father, Mother, Aunt Dellia… and to- to you." She blushed slightly at his soft smile and gazed at her footpaws for her final sentence. "And I will always be protective of my family."

"So you will," Aesir whispered and stepped forward to take her paws in his. "But be at ease, Cerys- while I'm around, I will always keep our family safe." His breath caught in his throat when she turned her eyes up to him and the firelight sparkled in their soft green hue. Bringing her paws up to his chest, Aesir cupped them over his heart. "All our family, Cerys. Now… and in what I want to be our fu-"

There was a loud knock at the door, starting the two mice apart, and an otterwife popped her head in.

"Excuse me, Princess Cerys," Maud's voice beckoned once Cerys gestured for her to speak. "We should really get you to your chambers to rest, Your Highness."

"Yes, of course," Cerys yielded, taking a step away from Aesir and blushing when he continued to hold her paw; waiting until she looked back at him, Aesir bent over and kissed her jewelled fingers.

"Pleasant rest, Cerys," he said softly, reluctantly releasing her paw. "I will see you this evening." The princess swept him a low curtsy and glided gracefully to her pawmaid.

"You know, it's strange," Cerys said, pausing at the door and looking back at the prince. "Eutrusia is a _kingship_, but everybeast always refers to the founder of the royal line by the female ancestor and not by the male."

"I suppose Marcena's courage outshone her husband in the eyes of our historians," Aesir chortled. "Do you not agree?"

"Her tale is more exciting," Cerys relented and swayed as if to leave before stopping herself again. "But I think it may prove a deeper point if viewed from a different angle."

"And what would that be?"

"Never underestimate the courage and strength of a female," Cerys said strongly and gave Aesir a knowing smile. "Our days are not always filled with ease and laughter, as you say it is- some days we deal with issues of just as dark and life-changing as you. Some days, we too have no choice but to be brave for those we love." Motioning for Maud to open the door wide for her, she called over her shoulder. "Get some sleep, Aesir. You cannot make important decisions if your mind is overtired."

* * *

_Aesir felt the sand under his footpaws as he ran across the beach towards the sounds of a Eutrusian horn and the calls of battle. He felt light in his strides, as if he were flying and not truly using them to create forward propulsion. Rounding the bend, he saw a mousemaid standing tall, looking out at the sea. Her simple dress whipped about her legs in the stiff breeze and she held a broken spear in one paw and a severed sword in the other. Hearing his approach, she turned and beckoned him to her, holding up her paw to stop him when he was but a few paces away. Aesir stopped and looked into her eyes. They were the same shade as his._

_"I thought you'd come, Aesir," she said quietly though her voice echoed through the humming air._

_"Why am I here?" Aesir questioned and looked about his surroundings._

_"You are looking for answers," the maiden smiled. It was then Aesir noticed the large scar that ran the length of her face and folded into a large dimple at her cheek. Seeing him notice it, she tapped her cheek with her paw and chuckled. "You should have seen the rat when I was done with him."_

_"You fought a rat?" Aesir said, appalled that a maiden would have to fight vermin._

_"For the lives of my family, yes," the maiden nodded and clenched her paws on her broken weapons. "We will always keep our families safe."_

_"That's my mother's ring," Aesir said boldly pointing at the emerald ring on the mousemaid's right paw. "She never takes it off."_

_"Yes. She wears it to remind her of our founding. It gives her courage to be strong."_

_"Our founding?"_

_"Remember your history, Aesir," the mousemaid said. "The courage of one can save an empire."_

_"Marcena?" Aesir breathed as he remembered his lessons. "You are from the dawning days. You… your family crossed the Western Sea to Eutrusia. You saved our family."_

_"Yes. I fought off the searats while they broke the ships apart and my family was able to sail away."_

_"You died for them," Aesir said quietly. "You freely gave your life."_

_"Yes," Marcena affirmed. "By my sacrifice gained the sympathy of the Seasons. They thought courage such as mine should be preserved and though they could not save me from my fate, they could save the rest of my line. It was then they blessed my children with a gift so they would not have to endure the death I did. They gave you the gift that you could never be killed by a vermin blade."_

_Aesir nodded. He had heard the story many times before._

_"You will have to sacrifice too, Aesir," Marcena said. "You will have to give your life, not in death, but in another way."_

_"In what way?" Aesir asked pointedly._

_"You will know," Marcena smiled at him. "You will need to act quickly. Decisively. Do not think with your mind. Your heart will tell you what is to be done. Through your sacrifice, they will be safe."_

Aesir awoke with a thud as he hit the hard stone floor. Groaning and groggily rubbing his throbbing arm, Aesir blinked his eyes in the dim light of his chamber. He must have fallen asleep in his chair. Collecting his thoughts, the prince tried to recall the particulars of his dream. They were so vivid, yet so distant in his mind. He only remembered one phrase clearly: _Through your sacrifice, they will be safe_.

But what did that mean?

The bells in the towers started tolling and the short horns sounded, alerting creatures to proceed to the Feasting Hall for the evening meal. Standing in front of the gilded mirror, Aesir adjusted his tunic and placed his coronet on his head. He was a Prince of Eutrusia. The Etifedd of Eutrusia. The Captain of the Royal Guard. His very life was to keep creatures safe… but what would be his sacrifice?


	22. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

"I dunno how Pops 'spects us t'gather firewood afta the rains last night," a young squirrel grumbled as he and his brothers pulled a rickety lumber cart off the dirt road and into the forest outside the Aurelius' city walls. "Everything's soak to the core- no beast'll be buying soggy pine from us."

The eldest, a lad no older than twelve seasons, motioned for them to stop and used his axe to roll a fallen birch over for inspection. "Don't matter, Russ. Just do what Pops says, a'right?"

"We's not gonna get no spankin' 'gain, right Kit?" the smaller of the three whined from his place in the wagon. He had been watching the sentries walk the tall stone ramparts in the morning light and the line of merchants forming at the eastern gate in preparation of entering the city for the daily market, before his brother's mention of his father brought him out of his daydreams. "Flynn no like getting' spankin's, no I's don't!"

"No, Flynn," Kit said firmly and lifted the squirrelet down onto the sun speckled ground. "We only got a swat 'cuz t'wood we brought back last time had beetles innit. Won't happen this time-" he patted the head of the axe thrust into his cord belt, "-I'll cut it open afore we load it up."

"'K," the youngster replied. "I's go find me sticks fer kin'lin'."

"Stay close this time, Flynn!" Russ ordered and dropped the pull handle on the cart. "I'm not traipsin' 'bout the woods lookin' fer ya again, got it?"

"He can't go far, Russ," Kit admonished his younger brother. "Leave 'im be."

"That's wha'cha said t'last time an' we spent o'er a bell lookin' fer his tail," Russ grumbled and went about searching for dry wood. "That's wha-"

"Shuddup Russ an' just look fer a hunk o' oak we can split…"

Flynn giggled to himself as he listened to his siblings bicker, gathering fallen twigs that he would later make into bundles for his father to sell as fire starter. Each stick he picked up, Flynn broke off an end, throwing down any that lack a distinct _snap._ Before long the squirrelet had wandered out of sight from his brothers, but he could still hear them in the distance.

"Flynn's gonna make a big bun'le o' wood fer Popsy," he assured himself. "I's gonna gets me a-extra cup o' milk wit supper t'night!"

Picking up a branch, the squirrelet tilted his head at the glimmer coming from underneath a sodden leaf. He knelt down, laying his armful of sticks aside and brushed the leaf aside. A polish purple gemstone twinkled back at him.

"Pret'y," Flynn whispered, picking up the jewel and rolling it in his grubby paws. "I's likes pret'y rocks!"

Standing up again, another sparkle caught his eye and another, and another. One by one the young one followed the path of gems, placing each one excitedly in his paws. By the sixth one, the squirrelet was laughing so hard, he did not hear his two brothers calling his name or breaking through the brush behind him.

"Flynn!" Kit shouted once he saw the youngster. "Seasons, Flynn- we were callin' ya- could ya not hear us?"

"I told he was gonna try an' run off 'gain," Russ grumbled and twisted his brother around by his shoulders. "Wha 'ave we told ya 'bout… hey. Flynn, wha'are those?"

"I's found pret'y rocks," he replied and held up the amethysts. "Onna ground, Russ… jis' layin' 'ere…"

"The Fates' Gates," Kit gasped and picked up one of the stones. "Russ, Flynn- these are like them jewel stones Master Mason sells inna market from the Seldor Mines. Look- see 'em sparkle?"

"Jis' one o' those'd feed us fer a good three seasons!" Russ exclaimed. "'N Flynn has eight o' 'em!"

"Ya found these onna ground, Flynn?" Kit pressed and looked around the forest floor. "All o' 'em?"

"Yep. Somma 'em under t' leaves." The youngster scooped down to brush away a clump of beech leaves, but paused at the feel of slickness to his paw. Holding his right one up before him, Flynn wiggled his claw tips together in the fluttering sunlight; deep red blood on his fingers.

"Kit! Russ!" he exclaimed and fell back onto his bottom. "Blud! Blud! T'trees 're bleedin'!"

"Trees donna bleed, Flynn," Russ sniped. "It's just o' bitta… Fates…"

"Let's git outta here!" Kit yelled, looking around at the flecks of blood and shallow furrows in dirt around them. "Com'on. This way!"

The three young squirrels thundered towards Aurelius, their chore long forgotten in their fright as they crashed through the undergrowth. Their footpaws stomped into soft forest floor, squishing soaked leaves up between their footclaws and causing them to slip and slide into each other.

"Com'on, Flynn," Kit urged, pushing Russ ahead of him and slowing for Flynn to recover from a ricochet off his brother's body. "We gots t'git back t' home. Back to Pops- he'll know whatta do- Whoa!" he yelped as he pitched forward over an object.

Yowling in pain at sickening crunch his snout made when it hit the ground, Kit blinked at the stars clouding his vision and groaned as blood instantly pouring out of his nose like a square's fountain. He clasped his paws around his nose, tears blinding him to the source of his stumble as he wriggled onto his knees.

"Kit!" Russ shouted and jumped back to his elder brother. "Kit- ya a'ight?"

"Me nose!" he snuffled out. "Me nose is broke!" Trying to rise up, he gasped and crumpled onto his bottom to look at his blackening ankle. "Me paw is broke, too."

"Ah! A deadbeast!" Flynn screeched and dove behind Russ' back. "Kit caught 'is paw onna deadbeast!"

Kit flipped himself over and screamed at the sight of a crumpled mousemaid lying disfigured in the mud. Her lifeless eyes stared holes in bottom of his heart, blackened blood crusting her pristine fur and tattered gown.

"Ya gots t'git outta 'ere!" he roared at his siblings and shoved Russ towards Flynn. "Go- gits Pops… go… _git!"_

"Ba Kit-"

"I says git!" he barked and threw a rock at them. "I can't run… jis' go git help!"

The two brothers looked to stay for a moment and then Russ snatched Flynn's paw, causing him to drop his precious stones before speeding away to Aurelius. Kit remained seated, panic driving deep gulps of air into his lungs and fear of being alone crawling its cold claws over his fur. Hearing the tree branches creak and crack in the wind, the injured youngster spooked, twisting around to face the dead maiden, yelping in fright of her and scurrying away to a large oak tree.

He pressed his back against the trunk, fighting sobs heaving his chest and whimpering his distress to the shadows of the forest.

"She is dead," he muttered to himself. "She can't 'urt me." A branch cracked again, the wind whistled through the leaves. Kit closed his eyes.

"She is dead," he reiterated. "She can't 'urt me." A rustle of brush and the breeze was harsher, closer, hotter. Air was pulled from around him; it's cool, fresh tones replaced by noxious smells of cinder, rot and blood. Kit squeezed his eyes tighter.

"She is dead," he blathered out, his lips trembling and spittle dribbling down his cheek, mixing with the blood from his nose. "She can't 'urt me." The sound of steel against steel hissed into his ears and the youngster drooped his tufts back flat against his head, his tail slinking against his leg.

"She is dead," he gasped and held his mouth agape. "She can't 'urt m…"

The wind wheezed, the branches hissed and the squirrel garbled out his last breaths in blood.

* * *

"Ah! Lieutenant Klein," a cloth merchant called from his perch of stacked crates where he was attracting customers to their product stand in Aurelius' great market square. Flinging the sample cloth of gold over his shoulder like a cape, he chuckled. "'Bout time I saw ya come t'see me wares!"

"Is there anything left, Brycen?" the solider laughed and reached up to shake the foreign vendor's paw. Motioning to the boxes and barrels of half-empty bolts of material, he added, "Business doing you well, I see."

"Aye, it does, matey" he nodded and leapt down onto the ground. "Made our damn prices too low this season." Looking around Klein at a modestly dressed mousemaid holding the paw of a sturdy mouselet, Brycen smiled. "G'day Rada. Rayley. Out for a family stroll?"

"Sort of," Klein smirked and waved Rada and Rayley to him. "We're in need of some new clothes. Fancy ones."

"Fancy ones, y'say?" Brycen mused and scratched his chin, noting the other cloth merchants giving sideways looks and perking ears in interest. "A weddin' or something?"

"No, no. For every day; and perhaps something extra grand for a feast – noble-like."

"Lieutenant!" a haughty otterwife called from her set-up. "I have the finest grosgrain in Seldor- arguably the whole of the Eutru-"

"Aye, but my brocades are inlaid with thread spun from the finest weavers in Lysium," affirmed a portly hedgehog. Holding out a length of fabric to show its quality he proclaimed, "The Baroness of Eurus herself bought a bolt of this last autumn- it is more than fine enough for a lieutenant's wife…"

"Mistress Rada 'as always bought 'er linen from me!"

"Feel this- the texture melts under your claw tips-"

"-Damask… ye'll fine none like it in…"

"If it be a feast ya'll be attendin', then it'll be silk ya'll be wearing!"

Quickly, the three mice were set upon by Aurelius' finest fabric mercers, each of them sniffing out the scent of a merchant's dreams: New money. Rada pulled Rayley closer to her dress skirts while Klein tried to politely diffuse the situation, looking at the held up wares and easing them away one by one. Brycen, however, did not have the lieutenant's patience.

"Git away- ya pack o' gulls!" the plump mouse sniped and shoved his way into the center of the fray. "The lieutenant came t'my stand first 'n if he 'n his wife don't like what I have, they certainly not goin' like any o' yar cotton or wool- now git!"

The flock of mercers dispersed slowly, each of them glaring at Brycen in turn as they went. The plump mouse didn't seem threatened by their looks and in fact gave one of their rumps a playful kick when the beast didn't move fast enough, gaining a stifled giggle from Rayley.

"Sorry, 'bout that," he snorted and turned back to his customers. "'Tis little wonder why they call this part o' the market t'ring o' fire! Huh, lives up t' its name more often than not, I'd say!"

"The reason I usually deal with the first cloth maiden," Rada confessed and pointed to the single dormouse standing at her meagre booth displaying nothing but the finest country linen at the mouth of the crescent. "Klein- I feel poorly not buying something from her- she always gave me a fair price…"

"We can get some yards when we leave if you like," the lieutenant assured her. "Rayley will still need some rough and tumble clothes in the north."

"In the _north_ ya say!" Brycen interjected. "Blow me down, matey- ya leaving the Guard?"

"Duty calls, my friend," Klein replied. "Which is why we need some, well, updates to our clothing."

Brycen leaned back slightly and crossed his arms over his chest. "Not goin' be wearin' that fancy uniform and cloak anymore, are ya?" Klein looked down at his navy uniform, its pewter buttons and silver trim. At his shoulders, heavy pewter pins baring the Eutrusian insignia of a crossed sword and scroll held his white lieutenants cloak to his body. With a sigh he brought his eyes up to the merchant and simply shook his head.

"Aha!" the mouse laughed and slapped his knee. "Turning lordship, are ya?" he joked and starting looking through bolts of satin.

"Da's goin' be a _steward,"_ Rayley blurted out excitedly. "'N Ma's goin' be a _lady."_

"Is that so, youngster?" the merchant mouse mused and tossed the plain satin aside and picked up a maroon and gold brocade. "And what'll you be then?"

Rayley puffed out his chest with pride. "I'm going to be an admiral; the Fleet Admiral of the Mariner's Commission of Eutrusia."

"One day, Rayley – _maybe,"_ Klein stressed and gave his son's shoulders a squeeze. "Well, Brycen- can you get them kitted up?"

"I'll have yar wife looking finer than t' queen, Lieutenant- I mean- _m'lord!"_

"Oh, I don't think we need to get that extravagant," Rada blushed and wrung her paws apprehensively. "Just something plain and…"

"Nonsense, m'lady," Brycen scoffed. "We'll make ya t'pearl of Eutrusia- just y'wait 'n see."

"Oh, please, don't call me _m'lady,"_ she blushed deeper. "I'm not a lady yet, Brycen. Please, just call me Rada."

Klein smiled as he watched Brycen layering reams of silk, damask and sarcenet over her shoulders to match colours and patterns. He'd been too poor when they were married to give her a true wedding present, but made her a promise one day he would give her the world; and for Klein, this promotion was doing just that. It made him feel like the greatest creature in the kingdom, and though he made a lucrative pension now that he was a lieutenant, to see her being fitted with clothes fine enough for a noble lady rendered him silent with pride. Clearing his throat, Klein grinned at Rayley's reaction when he was quickly set upon by another of Brycen's ilk and measured- the excitement etched on the mouselet's face was beyond price.

"D'ya wants the young lordling's clothes enforced at the edges and double stitched at the hem, m'lord?" the squirrel mercer asked, selecting a dark gray grosgrain and cream kersey from the pile. "I suppose you'll be wanting a few jerkins, some shirts, one or two vests…"

"Whatever you think," Klein proclaimed and handed Rada a purse of coins he'd received as an induction bonus for his new position. Brycen carefully noted the bob of the mousewife's paw under the weight, mentally calculating the potential budget and rubbed his palms together. "Right. Well, it's nothing but lace and silk for you, m'Lady Rada and some o' that worsted with silver trimmings fer t'young Admiral Rayley!

"Come, come, m'lady! Further under the tent where we keep the finer wares- can't 'ave the sun spoiling their colours 'r dust cloudin' their brilliance!" Brycen exclaimed and gestured her past the reams of linen with a bow. "Ya know, m'lady- the Queen o' Eutrusia herself graced our stand just t' other day- bought a nice green brocade with silver thread fer a new gown…"

Rada reluctantly followed the rambling merchant under the overhang. As proud as she was for Klein to have ascended into the ranks of peerage she was unsure of this new world they were entering. They were being raised very high, very fast and she couldn't help the angst that bubbled inside her. Klein was a fieldpaw turned warbeast, she was an ale merchant's youngest daughter - who were they to climb into the ranks of nobility, minor as her husband said it would be.

"Klein- are you not coming?" she asked as he remained at the entrance of the overhang. "You will need some new tunics."

"Is suppose I will," he sighed and took a step under the awning. "I suppose I'll need some sort of-"

"- Mantle or two; possibly even a line of silk just to fart on when he gets bored."

Klein wheeled around to see Olan standing with a mocking grin on his face and two young guards standing behind him. Holding out his paw, the squirrel lieutenant added, "Congratulations, _Steward Klein."_

"Oh, steward yourself!" the mouse laughed shook his friend's paw, both of them pulling together and clapping a paw across the other's back. "How in the kingdom did you find out?"

"Ol' Donny just told us Lieuies," Olan simpered. "The prince told him before he went into the trial meetings and asked Donny to start putting together a list of candidates to replace your sorry arse."

"I'm sure you'll find one quickly."

The squirrel let out a snort. "That's what I said. Not like you did much."

The two laughed and the two trainees sniggered behind. Olan groaned in frustration and turned back to them. "Did I say you could laugh?" The guards gaped at him briefly before snapping to attention. "No, I didn't think so. Now, shut-up or I'll have your balls made into a bola!

"New recruits," he continued, focussing his attention on Klein once more. "I've grunted out more obedient pieces of tripe… ah- hello Rada. Nice t' see you."

"I'm charmed as ever, Olan," she drawled out with an unimpressed expression. "I don't know how Salfin does without you in your hours of absence each day." With that she shot Klein a look of disapproval and walked back towards Brycen again.

"Already talking like a noble lady," he sniggered and gave Klein a swat on the shoulder. "Sarcasm is a true lady's gift - a regular maid would have just flat out told me where to put my tail."

"Rada is still a regular maid," Klein asserted. "She just can't be outwardly rude to a beast - even if she doesn't like them."

"Doesn't like them?" Olan clapped his paw over his heart at the insinuation. "And here I thought she loved me deep down."

"Only when you bring my tail back alive from battle," Klein said truthfully. "Other than that she thinks you're a no good lecher."

"Well, she's not _half_ wrong. I am a lecher, but I _am good."_

"What are you doing in the market, Olan?" Klein questioned, redirecting their banter and nodding to the two trainees still standing at attention.

"Training these two for street patrolling," he answered and raised his voice. "Keeping track of how many thieves and pick-pocketers they miss. If I hit ten, they're going to lose a claw when we get back to the barracks-" he paused. "-and I'm at eight already." Instantly, the two jumped into motion, bouncing into each other and then into their separate ways to peruse the crowd.

"I'm telling you, Klein - young lads don't have the initiative we had anymore," Olan reminisced. "They think it's all guts and glory, battles and victories. They forget we have responsibilities to uphold the peace in all of Eutrusia- not just the beasts getting war waged on. I mean really- who do they think keeps the peace around here- the Royal Prophets?"

"Will you listen to yourself?" Klein guffawed. "Initiative my ears- you had the least _initiative_ amongst our whole squadron…"

"Only in certain things."

"Right," Klein relented. "You always were first at the gates for street patrol… what was it you called it again? T.P.?"

_"T.T."_ Olan corrected him, his eyes shifting to witness the young guards progressing around the vendors. "Tail Trailing. Ah- the days of youth!"

Klein snickered and gestured about the market. "And here you are on another go around."

"Don't judge," the lieutenant sniped and cocked his head to the side at a group of young squirrelmaids admiring a ream of lace… and him out of the corner of their eyes. Giving a wink to make them giggle, he said, "If I'm not mistaken you met your significant piece of tail on a T.T. run, so you can't mock the system, eh?"

"I-" Klein started before a commotion rumbled through the creatures at the inlet to the market; beasts bunched around something while a few maids let out gasps and screams. Olan shouted for his two guards and trotted off to the crowd.

"Rada!" Klein yelled and slipped between two rolls of yellow fabric. "Rada- there's a disturbance in the square. Stay here with Rayley until I come back," he commanded her and turned to the merchant. "Brycen, if-"

"Don't worry, matey," he said with a wink and opened his vest slightly to reveal the hilt of his dagger. "She 'n t' lad'll be safe."

Giving him a curt nod Klein strode out from under the awning, barking at beasts to make way and shouldering through the mass of creatures encircling a pair of frightened squirrel kits snivelling out incoherent sentences in common accents. Olan knelt in front of the oldest, holding him tightly by his elbows, while another guard wrapped an offered shawl around the youngest quaking shoulders.

"Stop chattering lad!" Olan ordered sternly. "What is it?"

"A dead mousemaid!" Russ cried. "Dead as-a stump, she is!"

"Where?"

"Inna forest! Me… me brot'er still t'ere!" Gasps and murmurs filled the air as Olan rose, giving orders to his subordinates. The two bolted off quickly; one towards Vasilis, the other to the east gate of the city walls where the squirrels would have come in from.

"Kit's 'urt!" Flynn sobbed and fell to his bottom on the cobbles. "Kit's 'urt, Flynn's lost 'is pret'y stones, 'n now Pops gonna be mad a' us fer bringin' no wood 'ome."

"Your father won't be mad at you, young one," Klein reassured him and looked at the blood and mud splattered on their footpaws. They must have been close to whatever, or whomever they came across. "Does any beast know their father?" he posed to the gawking creatures.

"Aye- I do," a water vole spoke up and moved to the inner ring of the circle. "That's Russ and Flynn- part of Darin and Joules' brood. He sends them into the woods to get kindling for his firewood sales."

"Kindling after a full day of rain?" Klein muttered to himself and shook his head at the ridiculous idea. Turning to the water vole, the lieutenant asked, "Do you know where their father is?" He nodded. "Bring him here immediately."

"Yes, Lieutenant."

"Never a dull moment," Olan sighed and looked down at the brothers again. "You said your brother was hurt- How is he hurt? Where did you leave him?"

"Kit broke 'is nose 'n ankle when he tripped o'er t' body," Russ shuddered. "He told us t'get help- couldna run ya see. We came inna market fer 'elp- will ya 'elp us?"

"Yes, lad, we will," Klein said softly and knelt down to take their shaking paws in his. "But why did you not alert the guards at the gates? Why run halfway across Aurelius to the market?"

"Dunno," Russ shrugged and swiped the back of his paw under his nose with a sniff. "Jis' wanted t'get far away from t' forest is all, I s'pose." Klein nodded. Panic skewed most creatures' judgement, but he hadn't heard the alarm raised- why had the guards not noticed two frightened youngsters splattered with blood?

"Did you recognize the mousemaid?" Olan pressed after he ordered the crowd to disperse. "Have you seen her around the city before?"

"Nope. She be a fancy maiden."

The two lieutenants just looked at each other. "What do you mean _fancy maiden?" _Olan drawled out. "Like she was pretty? What was she wearing, what did she look like?"

"I guess," Russ shuddered at the memory of her. "She 'ad a fancy dress on."

"A wench can have a fancy dress on," Olan muttered out of the side of his mouth and the two breathed a momentary sigh of relief. Though murder of any maid was against law, the potential murder of a noble maiden was more problematic than a common creature. Their relief was short lived.

"She 'ad light gray fur 'n 'er headfur was a'most white it be so pale." Klein blanched at the description. " 'N she 'ad somma t'ose shiny rocks Flynn found on 'er."

"What shiny rocks?"

* * *

"I'm telling you old Trolier saw one creepin' around the docks last night," Cam said quietly to Loukin and Klein as they stood at the entrance to the east gate where two carts were each being hauled through the opening in the city wall by a pair of sturdy hedgehogs. "Admiral Daelahn scared it off by lighting an ale flagon on fire and throwing it at the creature."

Klein half listened to the Guard as he watched the wagons creak by under the iron grille. After alerting the sentries and berating the two lazy beasts staffing the gate, Klein had led the search party himself; leaving Olan and Lieutenant Evrol to deal with the incompetent creatures.

They had found the dead mousemaid easy enough by following the frantic squirrels' tracks in the soft earth, but what else they discovered when they got there was not so easy. It was never easy seeing a dead youngster, let alone one that had been disfigured- slashed by a thin blade all over his body and his innards cut out and smouldering a few paces away from him. The mousemaid herself had been mutilated; her legs twisted like a corkscrew with similar slashes to her body, only her death appeared to have come by a stab to her back, where the young squirrel had received a puncture gouge to his neck.

"Trolier can barely see ten paces in front of his nose," Loukin scoffed and picked a piece of fish from between his teeth with a dagger. "'Sides, it's a madbeast were after. No other creature could do those things to another, let alone torture a Neefray!"

"Aye, but the admiral ain't blind," Cam countered. "He ordered the ships to pull their ramps up for the night and posted a watch. He's been at Vasilis waiting all morning for an audience with the prince."

"Both of you keep it down," Klein sniped. "We don't know what we're after, but if whoever did this was the same creature Daelahn saw then that means it's been in and out of the city _twice_ without getting spotted. That in itself is enough of a worry without it being- well, whatever you two are jabbering it is."

"A Rus-" Cam started and shut his mouth at the lieutenant's glare. "Er, yessir, Lieutenant."

The group stood in relative silence while Klein took the two black sheets from Rian once the hare brought them forward, nodding to the other guards to remove the pine boughs they had used to cover the beasts initially before draping the dark fabric over their bodies. When shrouding Ulyssa's body, he paused briefly, taking in her sorry state for a moment before pulling the coverlet over her head. Her fabled beauty was enough to identify her alone, but the amethysts still weaved through her headfur only confirmed her to be none other than Ulyssa Neefray. It was a dark day of the eastern state of Eurus; first it's baron's only son and heir was being faced with a potential death sentence, Ulran himself possibly striped of his title and now this- a death of one of his house. Aye, it was a dark day indeed.

"Loukin?" Klein asked quietly when the carts dispersed. "I thought you said Baron Ulran said his sister was locked in the dungeons of Calsley with that vermin seer?"

"That he did," the otter sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Plain as day, Klein. Whole court heard him."

"Then how in the Seasons did Lady Ulyssa wash up here?"

"Dunno, Klein- but I think we'd better sleep with pitcher of water in our paws tonight."

"A pitcher of water?" Klein snorted. "Why would that be?"

"Because if Lady Ulyssa did escape from the cells, then maybe her creature did too." He breathed and exhaled loudly. "And the only way t'kill a… well, they don't like water. At least that's what my grandpappy used t'say when he told us stories of them t' go to sleep."

"Never took you for the superstitious type, Loukin," Klein muttered; his mind greatly troubled by the day's events.

"I'm not," he said firmly and turned to make his leave. "That's why ya should take my word on it. Water, Klein- or fire."

"Water or fire," the lieutenant mused. "Why no blades?"

"Blades ain't a natural element," the otter called over his shoulder. "Only way t' counter something _unnatural_ is with something _natural._ Water 'n fire, Klein. Water 'n fire."

"Water and fire," he whispered beneath his breath and strode off behind the cart bound for the palace. With the prince in council it would be up to him to deliver the news to the baron. He only hoped Loukin's advice would not need to be used.


	23. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

The Eutrusian horns sounded from the towers of the Tilt Grounds, their tri-bell tones echoing through the streets and buildings of Aurelius, calling her brave beasts to arms. Under the red and gold standards flapping boldly from atop the spires, the Royal Guards arrived in singles, pairs and groups before the armoured gates of the Guardhouse- a large structure built into the outer wall of the Tilt which housed the soldiers barracks, meeting chambers and store rooms. The creatures lined up to receive orders from their commanding officers; all of them grim faced at the summons, some knowing the reason through whispered gossip, others hearing it for the first time from their fellow soldiers.

The majority of the beasts were waved through the entrance, while the others were dismissed to their homes, their patrol orders and times carefully memorized for the next day. Into the Guardhouse they marched- mouse, hare, otter, squirrel, vole and hedgehog alike- across the slate floor of Officers' Hall and into the open air of the circular training grounds already filling with beasts kitted for martial duty. Adjacent to the Guardhouse archway into the yard, the doors of the Grand Armoury were open and awaiting the Guards preparing for service. In one end of the armaments store they trod, an assorted rabble of common creatures in an array of muted-coloured tunics and jerkins and expelling from the building in a wave of navy uniforms each overlaid with a heavy leather jerkin. Though not in battle regalia, the Royal Guard were dressed for combat; a sword hung neatly at each creatures' side and a short spear placed in every paw as they lined up into squadrons about the Tilt Grounds.

At the armoury's exit, Syr Donovan stood; carefully inspecting each soldier before they joined their groupings. "Keep a sharp eye, lads," the old Arms Master said plainly. "Stay out of the shadows and hold a paw on your hilts."

One by one, they nodded, taking in Donovan's sage advice as they readied themselves for their doubled patrol, grouping into nonets behind a sergeant to face the head of the arena where Aesir discussed strategy with his lieutenants over a rolled out map of Aurelius on a table made from an overturned archer's target. The sun shone down from its midday height; the sunlight glinting off the prince's coronet and sending beams of white light reflecting across the yard with his movements. Still garbed in his formal attire of state robes and collar from the morning's sentencing meeting, Aesir carefully listened to the senior warbeasts' counsel as he focused his thoughts on the latest strain of his responsibilities. His father had barely adjourned the assembly and the prince taken all of a step and a half out of the Council Chambers when a gaggle of beasts descended upon him regarding matters of state, mysterious sightings and murder.

"I want the city gates shut at dusk," the prince ordered waving off the offered wine from a pawbeast and motioning for a canteen of plain water to sate his thrist. "Every citizen is to be in their homes come nightfall and make sure the homeless are taken to some sort of shelter."

The five creatures in white cloaks nodded their agreement. "Yes, Highness."

"Keep patrols on the streets constant and search every alleyway," he continued, his right paw trailing the roadways on the papyrus with his ink-stained clawtips. "If we are running short on beasts, Admiral Daelahn has offered any landed Mariners to the Guard's service until we've caught this monster."

"And you are sure we are searching for some sort of vermin?" Lieutenant Evrol questioned the royal mouse, noting the weariness to Aesir's eyes. "You are certain the murderer is this _vermin seer_ the Eurians found?"

Aesir inhaled deeply, composing himself against his stress. "I cannot see how it would be any other beast. My lady aunt Baroness Dellia received a missive this morning from Syr Fendral meant for Baron Ulran informing him of Lady Ulyssa and her creature's escape from Calsley Castle. They searched the keep and all of Lysium before sending the message, giving the two enough time to travel; and seeing as Ulyssa is one of the victims, I can only conclude the vermin to be the murderer."

"Not to mention her condition," Klein snorted in disgust. "Even for a vermin, the way her body was mangled was disgusting. The poor female was tortured."

"Yes, but why come here?" Olan pressed. "Why not take a ship across to the Clawlings Islands or even Oremere? Why trek halfway across Eutrusia to the palace where she could only meet her fate?" He paused for a moment to let his words settle on their shoulders before adding, "what were they looking for?"

"I'm not sure," Aesir responded, shaking his head and taking another drink of water. "But I have a feeling we are going to find out soon."

Lieutenant Condor huffed under his breath and tapped the chart with his claw over the palace. "And what of Vasilis, sire?"

"Double the wall guard and drop the portcullises," Aesir commanded. "I want the hallways checked every bell. No beast comes or goes without one of your leave, is that understood?" Again, they nodded their acknowledgement.

"I know this must seem excessive," the prince continued, "but until I know what we are dealing with, I'm not taking any chances."

As if to affirm his decision, the sound of chinking metal sounded above them and the lieutenants all gazed upwards to the scaffold where a quartet of Sooty Terns were being fitted with sharpened war-beaks and hardened leather belly guards laced down their backs to protect their white under bellies from arrow attacks from below. The great seabirds stretched up, flapping their wings to check the fit before flexing their footclaws into the wooden landing to splinter the oak in a menacing show of force. Their beady eyes darted about the beasts beneath them as they jerked their black-capped heads about and, picking up on the slightest fidget or nervous movement from the Guards, held their dark wings outwards, hissing air from their nostrils before screeching a boisterous _kvaark!_

Aesir did not raise his eyes to the sight or sounds above him, but rather kept his stare forward to observe the Guards while they continued to fall into line, picking out his own examples of anxiety and dread at the task before them; however, he did not miss his lieutenants' silent question.

"The terns will patrol the coastline." The five white cloaks returned their attention to the table at the prince's voice. "If the vermin has any sense, then it will be looking for a ship to get out of Eutrusia- which it's welcome to," he paused and patted the hilt of his jewelled sword he wore for the sentencing meeting to appease his father, "in a wooden box."

Lieutenant Malax swished his paw over the forested area depicted on the map. "I've still got the trackers out looking for a trail and some of our best bowbeasts are set up in the trees around where the bodies were in case that creature comes back."

"Good. Were they able to find any pawprints besides the squirrelets?"

The hedgehog let out a sigh and rubbed his neck above his spikes. "No, sire."

"Hellsgates," Aesir swore and resisted the urge to spit the sour taste from his mouth. Knocking his fists back into the table, he asserted, "The creature had to have left tracks somehow. What did it do - fly?"

The last of the beasts exited the armoury and Donovan shouted the call to attention. In a uniformed shuffle of paws and steel, the Guards formed up into their ranks; all of them silent and awaiting their instructions.

"Did Baron Ulran have any other information for us?" Olan pressed and leaned on the table as well to eye the prince. "Any indication at all what this vermin thing looked like?"

"Just that it's cloaked in black and walks with some sort of limp," Aesir exhaled and stretched up. "I'm afraid the baron's mind is a bit on overload at present- it's not every day a beast has to endure the news of his sister's death and watch his only son dragged away in chains to a dungeon. Perhaps he'll remember more details in the morning, but for now we must get through the remainder of the day and night."

The six beasts conversed quickly as they confirmed the patrol routes and crossovers, Aesir delegating posts and shifts for his lieutenants before waving them off to disperse the Guards and give the sergeants their perambulation orders. Looking up to the scaffold, the prince gave the barest of nods and the Sooty Terns opened their wings wide, bowing their heads downward in respect before pushing off the wood to take flight above the Tilt Grounds. In a diamond formation, the seabirds swooped once around the spires and split into pairs to observe the coastline in either direction. With the clanking of bolts and the stomping of footpaws, the Guards exited the yard into the city by the Guard Gate, focusing Aesir's attention forward once more. Before him, leafless trees of timber and iron funnelled through the opening, a mobile forest of death that he had sent to take root amongst the cobbles and thatch of his kingdom's capital. They would catch this ruinous vermin and bring him to justice against the threats to his city's peace. The prince's mind teamed with thoughts and proceedings, and while he watched the creatures fall out to their duty, Aesir felt the weight of his own pressing hard upon his shoulders.

Observing the prince for a moment, Syr Donovan let out a sigh and walked over to the young royal, giving him a smile and pretending to look down at the map.

"You look tired, Your Highness," he said quietly so as to not be overheard; Aesir shifted his eyes down to the Arms Master. "You've done all you can for now," Donovan continued, "best to get back to the palace and rest. You've had a stressful morning."

"To a greater stress this afternoon," the prince muttered and briefly popped his eyebrows in recognition. "The king and I must announce the council's ruling on Baron Ulran and Lord Ulrick."

The aging squirrel snorted. "Ah, yes. I heard you had Ulrick dragged to the cells by his tail. Tell me, did he screech as maidenly as Neron did when your grandsire had him by the sack?"

"I'm not sure," Aesir chuckled. "I wasn't even born yet during the Uprising of Eurus, let alone there when my father and grandfather stormed Calsley Castle, Donny."

"No, you were just a wee thing in your mother's belly when we did that," he mused and looked up at the prince. "And now look at you- seventeen seasons old and dealing with the same tripe we thought ended with the rebels defeat." The smile fell from Aesir's face as Donovan pointed to his stained paw. "How you holding up, lad?"

"Holding up?" Aesir scoffed, rubbing his clawtips together as if to erase proof of the deed and pretending to be unbothered by the question. "What do you mean by that, syr?"

"I mean simply- how are you holding up?" The two just stared at each other until Donovan elaborated his question, "By the looks of your paw, you just signed your first execution warrant. You had your first viewing of a tortured body, your first time paying respects to a family grieving the loss of their firstborn killed in cold blood; and now, you are planning your first defense of the city against an unknown threat. That's a lot of firsts to come in a span of a few bells." Donovan paused to give his words credence. "So, I'll ask you again, Your Highness: How are you holding up?"

"Ha!" Aesir chortled nervously and rubbed his paw over his face, while taking a cleansing breath. "I'm fine, Donovan, or at least, I will be when all of this is over."

"Aye, you will," he smiled. "You're a strong lad just like your grandsire, though he chose to slay a few trees when he got stressed. Oh-ho- did the fires ever burn bright whenever the warrior saw red!"

Aesir laughed lightly at the turn of phrase. "I'm all right, Donovan." Resting his left paw on the jewelled hilt of his blade, the prince grimaced at the feel of it. "Just another day of being a prince."

The squirrel shook his head and gave the prince a little smirk, motioning with his paw for them to retreat into the shade of the Guardhouse and out of the heat of the midday sun. Turning to his servants, Aesir dismissed them with a kind word and nod before striding off with Donovan into the Officers' Hall. Cool shade waved over them as they entered the building, welcoming the two beasts into its gallery where the Arms Master plunked his bottom down on a chair at the first long table inside the double doors.

"Ah, that's better," he sighed and rubbed his knee while looking about the great timbered hall with its standards hanging from the exposed rafters. "I'm getting too old to stand up for that length of time." Before Aesir could respond, Donovan tilted his head towards Aesir's left hip. "Finally wearing that jewelled blade your father gave you, I see."

"Just for ceremonies or matters of state," Aesir replied as he took a seat across from his grandsire's closest friend. "I was wearing my battle blade at the questioning and my father mentioned he'd like to see me use this one from now on."

"It is a pretty sword," the Arms Master relented, "More _princely_ than your other one, that is for sure; but I thought it wasn't balanced?"

"It's not," Aesir exhaled and pulled the weapon from its scabbard to lay it on the table between them. Tapping the places where he had pried out some of the gems to further his point. Donovan leaned over the hilt, scrutinizing it with an experienced eye.

"Then why bother to carry it?" the squirrel stated with a huff and rested against the chair back once more. "Wielding an unbalanced blade is as useless as holding a tipless spear."

"Maybe, but I will not slight my father by disobeying his wishes or disregarding the blade he had made for me." Aesir's answer was curt, but without malice. Looking down at the sword with empty appreciation, the prince could not help but wish it was his grandsire's sword settled between them. The ancient broadsword may have been plain and without splendour, but the overwhelming sense of safety emulating from its steel outweighed any that an eye could behold.

"I suppose you're right, sire," Donovan smiled and clicked his tongue against the parched feel of his inner cheeks, "but a word of advice from an old warbeast- in times of trouble, keep the blade meant for your paw _in your paw."_

The Arms Master got to his footpaws and walked over to the large arras centering the southern wall and flanked by two tall iron candelabrums; the red cloth contrasting with the golden thread of the Eutrusian Scroll and Sword emblem.

"You know, I made a promise to your grandsire before he died," he started in guarded tones. "I don't imagine you remember it, but I was standing beside you received your sword. Your mother was at your grandsire's side, holding his paw and I was sitting by him on the other when your father brought you in. The moment you saw your grandfather you started hopping in your poor Da's paws until he put you down and you toddled over to him as slow as syrup in a frost." Aesir frowned at the reference. "You had just learned to walk a few days before that, sire- you weren't sturdy on your paws yet, but determined to walk to him on your own, you were!

"He told you he was proud of you and for you to always be brave, to do the right thing and never be ashamed of yourself for you were a prince and his grandson- you had nothing to be ashamed of. You had such a serious expression on your face; it's like you knew what was happening, though you had no words for it. Your father and I helped you hold the hilt of his sword while he recited the creed to you and at the end you even gave a little nod.

"You gave your grandsire a hug before your father took you and your new sword away, leaving just your mother and I there for his final moments. It was then, your grandsire made me promise to always watch out for you and your mother now that he could not and I did not hesitate to make that vow to my best friend."

"Donovan, I-" Aesir started, halting his speech and giving the squirrel a puzzled look before joining him at the tapestry. "Why are you telling me this, Donovan?"

"Just that I've watched you grow with a vigilant eye, Your Highness," he smirked. "I know you are now a grown mouse and can take care of yourself, but I still see the young mouselet who used to argue with me that a blue fletched arrow flew straighter than a white one during his archery practice."

Aesir simpered at the memory and Donovan gave the prince a friendly pat on the shoulder. "I'm too old now to be of service to you in battle, Your Highness, but I can still honour my vow if you'll listen to an old soldier's and take the advice I offer you."

Aesir looked straight into the squirrel's eyes. "And what advice would that be?"

"Get some rest; you won't do yourself any good by running your mind into the ground. Keep your mind sharp and your paw on your blade-" he turned back and waved off the jewelled sword on the table. "-your _true_ blade. If you have your true sword at your side, I know you will be safe."


	24. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Cerys lightly padded down the darkened corridor of the palace's hidden passways; a single candle illuminating the narrow hallway as she made her way upwards to the ramparts. Coming to a crosspath, the princess halted to get her bearings, listening for recognizable sounds or voices of certain beasts stationed at various places about the royal residence to aid her in confirming location. Not hearing any, she sighed and picked up her gown skirts again, looking left then right before settling on the middle passage to continue her ascent.

It was not often the princess used the passways, silently admonishing herself for not paying better attention to the twisting paths through the palace walls. Aesir knew them like the back of his paw, but then he had always used them to move about the palace when they were younger. She had not been as adventurous as he and chose to use the common hallways and foyer crossings to reach her destinations; frequently, the two had turned it into a race to see who would get there the quickest of which Aesir was a constant victor. It wasn't often Cerys used the passways, only when she went places she was not permitted to go: The beach during the night where she could watch the moon glimmer on the ocean and send silent prayers to her real parents who died in the waters, to the Royal Nursery to mourn after one of Valina's multiple miscarriages, to her parents chamber after a frightful dream, or to Aesir's chambers when she needed to hide. And now she was using them again, not to pray or mourn, not to hide or seek comfort, but to end the anxiety building in her chest and denying her sleep.

_I just need to see him,_ she thought to herself, sidestepping around a box that was carefully placed by a spyhole. _He's on wall patrol, but I need to hear it from him that it's over. That I'm free of Ulrick._

It was selfish of her, she knew. Turmoil was rampage through the palace, through the city, even the country to an extent. Execution warrants had been signed, a powerful noble condemned to die; a madbeast was lose about Aurelius, a murderer who tortured a great lady and common child to death. The Guard had been mustered, patrols marched through the capital; her father's closest friend and beloved aunt's husband struggled to keep the shards of his crumbling life in his paws, and all she could think about was her own reassurance- that she would not be forced into a marriage she could not even fathom the possibility of. And, all she could think about was him.

Trotting carefully up the crude steps, Cerys reached a seemingly dead end on the wood board landing. Finding the small hooked latch carefully concealed in the wall's timberwork, Cerys blew out her candle and placed it on the floor before pressing the handle downwards. To her surprise the hidden doorway notched inwards and she strained to pull it open, slipping out into the dim lit spiral stairwell of the western turret. Starting slightly as the door clicked shut behind her, the princess stalked cautiously in the shadows towards the archway leading to the ramparts.

Orange flames licked out the tops of the parapets' braziers creating a warm-toned pathway across the cold stones, the moon's blueing light casting hues of mauve and gray over the walls stones and corner shadows. Taking a cautious step out from the dark entryway, Cerys halted when Aesir appeared from around an outcrop. A smile erupted on her face and the relief waved over her as she boldly stepped out onto the rampart.

Aesir's ear flicked back at the sound of an approaching beast, spinning on his heel towards the sound, his left paw on his scabbard and right pulling his broadsword out a paw width in awareness. The moonlight beamed off his breastplate and the turn coiled his red cloak around his legs from the motion. Cerys stopped at the sight of his narrowed eyes and stern expression, exhaling only once his features softened in recognition and Aesir released his hold on his sword. Shaking his head, he strode purposefully over to her.

"Cerys, what are you doing here?" Aesir gaped at the princess, grasping her elbows and pulling her closer to him as he took a half step forward. Looking her firmly in the eyes, he said sternly, "you should be in your chambers at this hour- not out on the wall and certainly not out here when there is trouble about."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Aesir with the amount of security you have employed, a bee couldn't get into the orchards without you knowing."

"And yet you managed to dodge all my guards and made it up here," he replied, loosening his grip on her arms and taking a step back from her. Looking over to the other guards traversing the area, Aesir gestured for them to move to a space by the turret where the shadows offered them a version of privacy.

"I'm not a bee," she whispered to him and grinned slyly once they reached their refuge.

_That you are not,_ Aesir thought as he looked down into her eyes. He had been replaying the day's events over and over in his mind while on duty, fighting the emotions of anger and stress clouding his mind, and seeing her there, regardless of the reason, swept the fogs away in a single swipe. Without thinking he raised his paw to her face, brushing a stray lock of headfur back behind her shoulder.

"We missed you at the evening meal," Cerys stated, blushing at his attention and trying to break the intense gaze he was giving her. "Where were you?"

"Sleeping," Aesir confessed and moved his paws down her arms to clasp her paws. "I wanted to oversee the night watch and needed some rest before I did so."

"Father was cross you were not there," she said quietly. "After all that went on this morning, some nobles were muttering you were hiding after the… decision you made this morning."

Aesir gave an incredulous snort and gestured around the night air with his paw. "Oh, yes, _hiding. _Well, if the pompous arses were not _hiding_ in their apartments with guards at their doors and looked out onto which beasts were protecting them this evening they would see who is truly _hiding."_

"I know you aren't hiding, Aesir, but your position as the kingdom's future king dictated you should have been there with Father to affirm your solidarity to the rulings you gave this morning."

"And my position as Captain of the Royal Guard determined that I protect my subjects," Aesir retorted with an annoyed tone before checking his infliction with a rough exhale. "I am but one beast acting the lives of two separate creatures and sometimes I have to decide which role takes precedence over the other in times of trouble."

"Yes," she whispered and looked him over. "You are immeasurably a warrior right now." Cerys inhaled deeply and looked back up into his eyes. "But I heard you were very much a prince this morning."

Aesir raised his chin slightly, cocking his head to the side in a questioning manner to encourage the princess to continue divulging what she knew.

"I heard how you took command of the council meetings this morning regarding the sentencing," she admitted. "You were resilient in your conviction of Ulrick." Pausing for moment, she clasped her paws together and blinked angst from her eyes. "You sentenced him to death."

"Yes." Aesir's reply was flat and seemingly emotionless.

"You rid the kingdom of him." She took a deep breath. "You- you rid m-me of him."

"Yes." Aesir's blue eyes tempered as the calm night air.

Cerys waited for him to say more, desperately wanting to hear him continue what he had started the day before in the Presence Chamber, and when he didn't, she added, "Thank-you. You don't know how much it means to me…"

"Are you so against marriage, Cerys?" he questioned, shifting on his footpaws like he was wary of her answer. "Or was it just marriage to Ulrick you were opposed to?"

"Ulrick," she breathed and looked out at the stars suspending over the folding waters of the ocean. "He was so… I don't have a word for it- I only ever conversed with him that one time, if you can even call it that, but the whole while he made me feel uneasy; like he was hiding a great secret."

"He may be," Aesir sighed, his gaze following hers. "I gave him a choice, Cerys. Divulge what he knew about the seer and what it had told him, and he could live out his days in captivity attainted, striped of all lands and titles- everything, but his life. Or, if he held his tongue, he would be charged with high treason and executed." Leaning on the blocked wall, the prince snarled and pressed his fists into the stone. "The damned mouse just stood there with a grin on his face. Great Seasons, Ulran was practically on his knees begging Ulrick to take the offer and the bastard couldn't even suck up his own conceited pride to save his father the sight of watching his own son killed!"

"And he said nothing?" Even for Ulrick, this seemed suspicious to Cerys.

"All he said was it would have been cleaner if I had died up north in the rebellion," Aesir growled and Cerys's eyes popped at the statement.

"I wager Father did not like the sound of that."

"That's when he took control and ordered Ulrick to make his choice- he chose death."

"And yet after all that, you were compassionate enough to insist he be given the right to choose his own mention of execution." Aesir turned to her, his eyes questioning her source of information, to which Cerys smirked, "I overheard Father telling Mother the result of the proceedings."

"It wasn't compassion, but respect, Cerys," Aesir sighed. "Ulrick is a great lord in his own right regardless of being an heir to a baronage. I am not about to march him up a public scaffold and put his head on a pike for the sun to rot- traitor or not." Cerys grimaced at the imagery. "Ulrick can die with what little honour and dignity he holds in whatever manner he chooses, and then Baron Ulran will have the full custody of the body to give proper burial rites to his son."

"Ulran is to continue holding the baronage then?" she asked in a guarded tone.

"Yes, but he will never be asked to represent the crown again," Aesir informed her. "Father fined him heavily, but the Eurian treasure will barely feel it in truth. The hardest thing for Ulran will be the death of Ulrick. He will have to live out the rest of his days knowing his one misstep in judgement led to his son's execution."

Cerys gave him a hard stare. "It's not Ulran's fault his son acted against the wishes of the crown and killed those beasts."

"No, but he will feel the guilt all the same." Looking into the soft green of her irises, Aesir added. "The council is pushing for Baron Ulran to put Aunt Dellia aside and take a fertile wife- one that will bear him more children. Things will be stressful for the next few days until Father and I can counter that mess."

"Mother and I visited Aunt Dellia this morning," Cerys sighed. "She suspected something like that would come about."

"How is she?" Aesir asked. "I haven't been able to see her yet, I-"

"She's weak, but still the same in mind and spirit," she assured him. "You know Aunt Dellia, she's incredibly offended this illness did not consult her first before it took root."

Her light jest made him smile. "Well, she just might turn it all around, even if it is only to crow over Father's healers for getting it wrong. Watch- she'll outlive us all just out of spite!"

They both laughed together and Cerys raised her paw to cup his cheek. "There, that's better."

"What?" Aesir chuckled and furrowed his brow. "Cerys, what are you talking about?"

"You smiled," she conceded. "Every time I saw you today you wore a frown and look to be under a lot of pressure. I like it when you smile, Aesir- I… I like making you smile."

Cerys blinked back her blush at his narrowed eyes and tried to remove her paw from his face, but Aesir caught it in his, curling his claws around her fingers and pressing back against his fur.

"Then you succeeded at dawn," he whispered to her, breathing in the bright scent of orange blossoms perfuming her wrist. "For I woke with thoughts of you on my mind and for that I will always smile."

Cerys could barely think as Aesir stepped closer to her, sliding his free paw around the small of her back and nuzzling her held paw; feeling his lips kiss her palm, she gasped and tried to pull it away from his grip, but he held her tighter, kissing her wrist and forearm in slow measured caresses all the while pulling her paw to the back of his head. Resting her palm at the base of his skull, Aesir ran his claws down her arm, over her shoulder and up her neck. Sensually, he spread his fingers over her soft fur and tipped her chin up with his thumb.

"I can't fight this anymore, Cerys," Aesir breathed, his heart hammering against his chest so ferociously he swore his breastplate would dent outwards. "I've tried- I can't."

"What feeling?" she asked coyly, rising to her pawtips so she could put her right arm around his shoulder. Pressing up against his body, Cerys shuddered at his closeness and the cold chill of his breastplate cooling her chest through her gown bodice. Her body was set aflame with anticipation; every extremity tingled in want of his touch and her ears rang with strain as they waited to hear his answer, her heart leaping with eagerness.

"You," he murmured in a deep voice, dropping his face to hers, stroking it slowly and relishing the feel of her fur against his. "With me. Together…"

"Aesir," Cerys gasped and instinctually batted his head upwards with her nose to expose his lips.

"Cerys," he said softly and ran his paw up her back to wind his fingers through her curling headfur. Seeing her breath catch in his throat at his touch, Aesir took her chin firmly in his paw and lowered his lips to hers, moaning with the bolts of lightning flashing through his body at the taste of honey, of spices, of… her. He pulled Cerys closer to him, exploring her lips with his; the princess went soft in his arms, her paws grasping to him in attempt to stay upright on her weakened knees.

Cerys senses blazed about her in the timeless bubble that enveloped them. The sounds of the sea mimicked the motion of Aesir's lips on hers, the light sea breeze fluttering her skirts around his legs while his cloak billowed and made as if to cocoon them together, forever. She could feel her body quaking and she felt hot and needy in his arms, marvelling how every contour of their bodies seemed to fit one another; every curve its own crevice to rest. The young princess' heart soared from her chest into her throat and she hummed and moaned at the feeling of love swelling that heart as if it would explode from her body.

Gently, Aesir broke away the kiss, holding her lightly as both of them breathed heavily and searched for words before disregarding all reasonable thought and locking their lips together again, and again- each time their movements more erratic, their breath quicker, their kisses more frantic. Finally, releasing his lips from hers, Aesir placed hurried kisses down her neck, his paws now beginning to rove over her waist and hips, making Cerys sigh at his touch.

"Aesir," she gasped in his ear while he teased her neck with his teeth, "Aesir, we- we can't. I'm not yours-"

"You are mine," he affirmed hotly. "You always have been mine and no other's." Twisting his head back up to look at her, Aesir cupped her face with both his paws. "And after tomorrow, Cerys- after I've dealt with Ulrick once and for all, I will make sure everybeast knows how much you are mine."

Cerys giggled. "Is that your idea of a marriage proposal?" Aesir grinned at her, the starlight reflecting in his eyes as he nodded his agreement. Pressing his forehead to hers, he whispered, "Only if you'll have me.

"I have only ever wanted you," Aesir continued. "There will only ever be you. I want no other but you. I want you for my lifetime."

Cerys could only smile up at him, her words frozen on the end of her tongue as she willed her eyes to tell him what her voice could not. She loved him. She always had and now she knew he too felt the same way, there was neither greater feeling nor phrase she could muster would ever be able to describe the way she felt at that moment. Aesir gave a light huff in his smirk at her speechlessness and as if completely understanding her, tilted his head to claim her lips again; this time in a slow and passionate caress. He couldn't get enough of her.

The bells in the watchtower started tolling over the slumbered city, their gongs echoing off the buildings to the count of twelve. Reluctantly, Aesir pulled his head away from Cerys.

"The guard will be changing their shifts," he said quietly. "We shouldn't be seen up here alone together. Come on- I'll take you safely to the passways and then you must promise me to go straight to your chambers- I don't want you walking about the palace unguarded, Cerys. At least not right now."

"Yes, Aesir," she said dutifully, stepping back and letting her paws slide down his arms to clasp his paws between them. "Are you not retiring to your chambers for the evening?"

"Not yet. I have to question those returning from patrol and make any adjustments to the routes that need be. I may even go out on a turn myself."

"Determined to catch this beast within a day are you?" she tried to jest as he started to walk back to the turret with her.

"It will be easier- the longer we take to catch the creature, the more time it has to hide and possibly kill another innocent. I can't let that happen."

Guiding her into the circular stairwell, both the prince and princess descended a flight of steps, stopping on the landing. Aesir reached up and pulled the wall sconce down to hear a soft click and then pushed stones inward to reveal a hidden doorway.

"Straight to your chambers, Cerys," he said firmly, pulling her into his arms once more. "Promise me?"

"I promise, Aesir," she exhaled, soothing the worried creases wrinkling his brow. "Don't worry about me."

"I will always worry about you." Hearing the sound of footpaws starting to climb the stairs, he let Cerys go to slip into the passway. "Tie a shawl to your balcony railing when you get back. I'll look for it when I return to mine and that way I'll know you are safe."

The princess merely dipped her head in acknowledgement and picked up her candle from the floorboards for Aesir to relight from the wall torch; wordlessly, she dipped into the shadows disappeared down the alleyway steps as he quietly shut the door. The prince exhaled in a long shuddering breath and flopped back against the wall with a smile on his face. After everything that seemed to be falling on his lap, this was the one weight he could bare without strain; the one thing that seemed certain. Cerys.

* * *

Moisture slicked the rock walls of Vasilis' foundations, their dark colour reflecting the torchlight and giving the false impression of a golden hue to the stones. Roughhewn stairs were carved out in steep descent around the vast pillars supporting the grand palace, leading down into the cliff from which it was built; down into the depths were light only came from torches and the eyes of miserable beasts forced to endure its dank confines for their offenses against the crown.

At the bottom of the steps stood an empty hallway; at the end of that hallway a single door studded with iron nodules and guarded by only two sentries standing at attention wielding halberds. After all, it was not getting into the dungeons they made difficult, but the getting out.

On the other side of the door, four guards sat at a square table, jesting and sharing a platter of bread and cheese. Their uniforms were mirror images of themselves; tattered around the edges and patched in places of wear. They were not straight backed and virtuous as the Royal Guard; no, these green clad creatures were prison guards, and it was widely known prison guards were cut from a different kind of cloth. They were hardnosed and uncouth, their manners coarse- yet it did not seem to bother them.

"I'm tellin' ya- t' finest hips in the cliffside," a squirrelguard squawked and chugged a mouthful of brew. "What I wouldn't have gave for a tussle with her when we were younger!"

"And where be she now?" a vole chortled, sloppily chewing a wedge of cheddar into a thick paste in his open mouth.

"Married to the rot-nosed Lieutenant Olan!" he laughed. "Damn squirrel got to Salfin when he was a sergeant and turned her head with all his 'I'm a Deodar' tripe. O' course she not gonna look at a dungeon guard like me when she could have a flashy officer like him."

"From what I 'ear she's got quite t'mouth on 'er," an otter sniped out a bit logical reason. "Not all tips an' hips, y'keep braggin' 'bout."

"Aye, she does- ba ya know that's only a strike o' two away." Holding up his right paw, the squirrel flipped it from back to palm. "Discipline. Reminder."

The four of them laughed at the gesture and a mouse stood up in his spoiled uniform to gain attention. "Well, I prefer to shut 'em up in other ways," he snorted. Taking a bowl from the table he turned it into his body and performed a few vulgar movements with grunting sound effects, sending his guard mates into hysterics. "A few good pumps to the back o' their throats are all they need to be shown who is boss."

A snort sounded from behind the bars three cells down a narrow hallway. "Low-born bilge mouse," said the voice from the darkness.

The guard hurled his bowl in the direction of the voice, the wood clanging off the iron rungs and clattering on the stone floor with a clamorous ring before it rolled into the black abyss past the flickering sconces.

"And 'ho are you to call me a low-born bilge mouse, _traitor,"_ he snarled and pointed a claw at the pair of eyes that pocked the darkness. " 'Ho are you to jest at me when you've probably shoved your poker down half a dozen maids. Lest I didn't go 'gainst my king." Looking back at his guardmates, the mouse simpered. "What are you- jealous it'll never happen t'you again?"

"I'm sure they have whores in the Dark Forest."

"Don't count on it. You're headed for Hellsgates."

"Oh, good," the prisoner sneered. "I'll meet your mother there then."

"You no good, lousey-"

"Easy, Carmyn," the otter said sharply and grabbed the guard by the collar to haul down into his chair once more. "Jus' leave 'im alone- 'member, we ain't suppose t'talk to 'im."

"Scumsucking whoreson," Carmyn seethed and crossed his paws over his chest. Not able to control his anger, the mouse shouted over his shoulder. "I hope your chamber is comfortable for you on y'last night alive, _Lord Ulrick."_

"Quite fine, I assure you. The décor is a little bland, but it matches the company; and this mouldy straw- tell me, which one of you pulled it from your own mattress to give me such superb filth?"

"Don't answer 'im, mates," the otter asserted as the vole shifted on his seat and the squirrel bristled his tail in anger. "Pay 'im no heed."

"Easier said than done," the vole complied.

A few moments past in silence, the guards resumed munching solemnly on their rations as the steady drips from the stalactites echoed amidst quiet roars of the torch flames devouring oxygen and filling the stagnant air with hushed hatred.

"Shall we play a game?" Ulrick called from the shadows, turning with a clank of his chains and shuffling on his bottom to sit by the cell front. Wrapping his claws around the bars, he craned his neck to look on at the unsure sentries. "If we're going to be down here all night, we might as well do something to pass the time."

"No talking!" the squirrel snapped. "And get yar paws off t'bars. I see them like that again and I'll cut them off, I will!"

Slowly, Ulrick slipped his paws off the blackened rods and rolled over on his tail, leaning his back against the grate instead. "Fine- but I'm not spending my final hours in silence."

The four beasts were quiet.

"Oh, marvellous- the silent treatment," Ulrick laughed. "I haven't had that since I was… well, ten seasons old. Is that the best you lot can come up with?"

Still no response.

The noble mouse sighed and stared into the blackness at the back of his cell, watching the light casting shadows and creating shapes against the chiselled walls. After a short time, he spoke again.

"Do any of you read?" he started and then shook his head at the ridiculous notion. "What am I saying, of course none of you read. You can barely write your own names I bet- just some rudimentary letters the Guard taught you during your preliminary training, perhaps?" He heard a chair scuffed the ground as a beast fought to hold their tongue.

"Well, when I was little, six seasons old actually, my father brought home a new bride and tried to make me love her. He thought that I needed a mother to help teach me compassion and temperance, virtues he deemed were qualities a good lord need to behold. But what my dear father forgot was that I had already been taught virtues by my grandfather and aunt; ambition, devotion and tactfulness, so his lessons, or rather _her_ lessons fell on deaf ears really.

"I couldn't believe he replaced my true mother and let this new fascination of his sit in her chair, occupy her rooms, sleep in her bed with him, but he did and in my eighth season I caught the fever that had claimed my grandfather's life. My father was away, here in Aurelius, for some reason or another on the king's summons and his wife disregarded the healers' warnings and kept vigil over me through the night. She bathed my brow and rubbed my paws in hers, assuring me she sent for my father and he would be home as soon as he could. I was too weak to tell her to leave me, to inform her I didn't want her around- that I wanted my aunt to watch me instead, so she stayed with me and served me broth and cups of water. After a short time she sent for her favourite tomes and started reading aloud until I feel asleep.

"By morning my fever had broken and she was asleep with her head resting at the end of my bed-"

"We don't care about your damned illness," the vole chirped from the table. "And you gettin' sick gots nothing t'do with the fact of us being able t'read or not."

Ulrick smiled at the agitation to the guard's voice. "Yes, I digressed a little there- my apologies. But what I am really getting to is that she left one volume unread. It was called _The Watcher's Fall_- have any of you heard or read about it?"

Silence.

"I thought not," Ulrick leered and licked his lips. "It's a heroic poem really. I'm surprised none of you have heard about it. Anyways, I picked up the book and started to read it- immediately I was caught up in the excitement of the tale and the devotion the lone watchbeast had to his family, to his post that he was able to hold the tower for eleven days against a horde of white foxes while his fellow guards ran for aid. Amazing really, that one squirrel archer could delay a horde of vicious vermin on his own for close to a fortnight."

"Lies." The otter spat out his response. "No beast could do that- not even a beast with bloodwrath could take on a horde and win."

"Oh, no, the squirrel did not have bloodwrath, but he was smart, cunning and tactful," Ulrick chuckled, focusing on a particular shape that shifted in the shadows. "He knew how to manipulate the minds of his opponents into thinking he was not one beast, but many."

"And how did he do that?" the mouse guard scoffed. "What did yar fancy pages wrapped in leather tell ya he did?"

"He played to their fears," Ulrick said plainly, letting his lips curl into a noxious smile. "He used the shadows and made them afraid of the dark."

"An old wives' tale," the squirrel huffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Some epic. Shadows- Aawwweeoooowww- I'm shakin' on my claws!" The four guards shared a laugh and Ulrick continued to watch the darkness of his cell.

"Shadows are a dangerous thing," he warned them. "You can't make out what is truly in them until they want to be made known and wherever you go, shadows are everywhere, can slip anywhere. You can't run from them. You can't hide from them. They will always find you anywhere you go." Two eyes popped open in the blackness and Ulrick tilted his head to the side with a confident laugh.

"And eventually the shadows will devour your courage- they will eat you whole." He paused, locking eyes with the creature shrouded in darkness before him. "And when the shadows eat you whole, no beast can hear you scream."


	25. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

_All around him beasts were screaming. Running. Tripping over one another and trampling themselves into the ground. The world was a blur of cyclonic colour and deep shadows whirled around him like a maelstrom. In the center of the Grand Gallery Aesir stood, his heart pounding in his chest, his sword gripped in his paw._

_Out of the frantic motion, Loukin stepped forward; his jovial smile wreathing his face. "Run," he said and pointed to the doors to the courtyard as they opened with a blinding white light. The prince raised his left paw to shield his eyes from the glare._

_"Run where?" he asked, tilting his head around his buffer. "Loukin, run where? Why?"_

_The otter opened his mouth to speak again, but a choked gasp replaced his words and Aesir saw the tip of a dirk stabbed out the front of his chest. Blood bubbled from the otter's mouth, his lips quivering for a moment before the blade receded and he crumpled to the swirling floor._

_"Loukin!" Aesir cried, taking a hastened step forward before the image of another creature halted his advance. "Donovan?"_

_The kindly arms master held a blue fletched arrow flat in his palms, offering it to Aesir. "Run." His voice was devoid of all inflection. "Run."_

_"Donny, why am I running? Why-" Aesir's answer came in a gargled response as the needled weapon poked its point through the material of squirrel's tunic. "No- Donny!" Aesir bellowed and jumped forward to catch the elder._

_"No, Aesir!" a voice shrieked from his right and an arm darted across his body to clasp his shoulders, holding him back. The prince looked down at the slender arm, its gown sleeves trailing to the ground, then up to his right where Valina stood beside him._

_"No, Aesir, you can't save them," she said strongly, pulling him back upright. "You must _run. _Go now. _Run."

_Fear ran down his spine and his eyes grew wide. "Mama- watch your back!" he snapped, pulling her to him and holding her against his body while pointing his sword straight ahead in silent challenge of the unseen threat._

_"There's no time for this, Aesir," she said and pushed away from him roughly. Taking a tiny ship from her sleeve, Valina held up his favourite childhood toy. "Run." Tears welled in her eyes and she bit her lip until it bled. "Please run, my little princeling. Please, please run. Run before you have no choice-"_

_Confusion clouded his mind. "Mama- what are you…"_

_"Sands of white and sails of gold,  
Seas of blue and courage bold.  
Banners red and crowns of wealth,  
Bravery, wisdom the Seasons dealth."_

_The sound of maiden singing reached his ears and Aesir looked over his shoulder to see another door open, but unlike its adjacent entryway that led to seemingly nothing, this beheld the scene of a little family; a mousewife richly clad with dark curling headfur and six mouselets flocking around her by a blazing fire while she sang._

_"Truth and honour doth behold,  
Our fortunes in the prophets told.  
Blessings, gifts, divining guides,  
Strength in arms, defining minds."_

_"Aesir- go!" his mother pleaded, holding the ship out further. "Don't look at it, please- you have to run!"_

_But he was entranced by the view before him. In distant voices he could hear the family laugh and play with each other in their games. A symmetrical blend of males and maids bounced around the mother and she continued to sing as she adjusted the waistband on the youngest maiden's gown, never missing a note._

_"Forever will we stand for right,  
Scroll and Sword, Eutrusia's might.  
Ships and sails, Guard and pike,  
Protect our shores against cors-like."_

_Taking a step closer, he could see their faces clearer; he could see her face clearly. It was Cerys. The mousewife was Cerys. Aesir smiled. This was their future family._

_"Aesir!" Valina screamed at him. "Aesir- please!"_

_"It's my family, Mama," he grinned, taking yet another stride towards his future. "I don't need to run from my family." Cerys turned slightly and saw him. Tapping the mouselets to gain their attention, she pointed him out and they all waved and greeted him in muted tones. As ever, she continued to sing._

_"Ever will our hearts true,_  
_Land of plenty just for you,_  
_Eutrusia!_  
_Sing again and again._  
_Eutrusia,_  
_Sing again and again._  
_Eutrusia,_  
_Sing again and again…"_

_Aesir laughed, lifting his footpaw for another step and then he heard it; a painful cry and the sound of flesh suctioning onto steel. Spinning on his heel, he saw his mother, her mouth agape in anguish and tears pouring from her eyes to match the blood dripping down the bodice of her gown._

_"_Mother_!" he yowled as the toy ship dropped from her paws and she grabbed at the wound before falling forward with the others. Dropping to his knees, Aesir fell forward on his paws to take deep breaths against his sorrow; his own tears slipping from his eyelids._

_"Father?" a young voice whispered behind him and he felt a small paw on his shoulder. Aesir flicked his head up to look at a young male about twelve seasons old staring at him with soft green eyes and dark coppery fur. "Is it time to fight?"_

_"Fight?" Aesir gaped, noticing the small helm under the youngster's arm and a long dagger thrust into his belt. "What do you mean fight?"_

_"The vermin," another male about ten said bravely as he shoved his own helmet back so he could see better. Like the older mouselet, he too had a short blade, only he held his. "The horns mean they landed, right?"_

_Aesir just stared at them in awe, not knowing what to say until a tiny mouselet, no older than four seasons, squeezed between them with a wooden play-sword in his paw. "We can help, Father," he said boldly. "We can fight, too."_

_"This is a dream," Aesir breathed, glancing from mouselet to mouselet. "This has to be a dream, but you're my…" He swallowed his realization in a single gulp. "You're my sons?"_

_The eldest nodded and Aesir noticed the Etifedd's coronet glint from atop his head. "And we'll bravely die protecting our kingdom, Father."_

_"Die?" Aesir spat out and popped his eyes momentarily before snapping his head upwards to the doors beholding the family, only this time the scene was dark- the hearth cold and flameless. Cerys knelt in the far corner of the chamber, their children huddled in her outstretched arms._

_"Be brave," she asserted though her voice faltered with the howls of pain and licks of flame outside the windows. "Your father and the Guards are very brave. They won't let the rats in here. They-" There was a shout outside the door and she clutched them tighter to her. Steel rang upon steel and then all was quiet for a brief moment before a loud bang rammed against the doors. Aesir panted as he watched his family shake with fear, his daughters crying and his young sons standing up in front of the females, bravely protecting their family._

_"No," Aesir breathed reaching out to them. "No!" He had just risen to his footpaws when the head of a halberd splintered through the wood of the door and retracted only to have an arrowtip appear in its hole. The instant Aesir took a step forward again, the arrow loosed, burying itself deep in the chest of his middle son._

_"No!" he yelled, his cry echoing that of his family's. Another step he took, another arrow flew at a new target. And then another, and another. Cerys leapt up to shield them as the doors burst open and rats flooded the room; circling them, their blades posed for the kill. Aesir blinked, opening his eyes to the sight of crumpled bodies littering the chamber floor. Grief gripped his heart and Aesir stumbled backwards away from the horror; to his astonishment, as he placed down another footpaw, the rats left the room- a stilled body stirred. With each step he took back, the further he moved away from his desired future, the more death was reversed. Finally, when he reached the center of the circle they were a happy family once more, oblivious to the previous terror. Shuffling back one more stride for good measure, Aesir heard a crack of an object beneath his heel. He reached a paw down and retrieved his tiny toy ship to hold in his paws._

_"Run, Aesir." He started at the female's voice and spun round to see his mother alive again, holding his sword flat on her paws. "Leave them be. Leave them a wonderful dream. You must run."_

_"My family," he murmured. "Mama, they're my family…"_

_"They could be," she relented. "It's a path. One you could choose; but with every choice, comes a price."_

_"My family will die."_

_"You're _whole_ family will die," she breathed. "Eutrusia as we know it will die. The rats will come. You must run. Pull their eyes away from here. Their sight follows you, Aesir. You must run. You must hide."_

_"Where?" She pointed to the open door of white light. "What's out there?"_

_"What you make of it," she whispered to him. "It's your way through the Seasons' mists- your way to hide."_

_Aesir turned towards it, shielding his eyes once more at the brightness and trying to make sense of what was happening around him. "Is it dangerous?" he asked with conviction, not fear._

_His mother nodded as he took back his sword. "Yes."_

_Aesir's world started to swirl faster around him, the air pressed in against him. The image of Valina blew away in the motion and Aesir found himself floating in the weightless void encompassing him; Marcena's strong voice whispering through the steady hum of the wind._

_"Through your sacrifice they will all be safe."_

"Your Highness," Tipper called, shaking Aesir firmly on the shoulder as the prince thrashed about his canopied bed. "Your Highness!"

Aesir bolted upright, breathing heavily and blinking the fogginess from his mind. Feeling a bead of sweat drip down his cheek, the prince ran a paw over his face, grimacing at slick feel and the realization of his soaked shirt clinging to his chest.

"Are you alright, Your Highness?" Tipper pressed, taking a step back to give Aesir his space. "Were you having a dream or something?"

"Something," Aesir muttered. Throwing his footpaws over the side of the bed, he stretched, groaning at his weariness and looking out the balcony at the golden sunshine playing about the soft blue entrance sheers. "What time of day is it, Tipper?"

The pawbeast started to straighten the bed sheets as the prince rose and made his way to the washstand. "Just afore midday, sire," he said, fluffing the pillows and pulling up the coverlet. "You said when you came back at dawn to only let you sleep for a couple of hours."

"No, that's fine, Tip," Aesir assured him, pulling off his shirt and washing sleep and sweat from his face. Taking a towel from the side rung, he dried his fur and collected the clean shirt the servant held out for him. "Any news of the dungeon guards?"

"Healers haven't said much to me, Your Highness. They only sent a herald saying they have them finally calmed in the infirmary, but that was, erm… about a bell ago now."

Aesir nodded. It was the small hours of the night when a guard came running to the Guardhouse proclaiming the prisoner's watchers had gone mad- screeching and snivelling like frightened children hovelled in the corner of the prison. By the time Aesir and a fresh patrol of guards reached the foundations of the palace, healers were already administering herbs to calm their hysteric nerves. Nothing they said made sense and the only thing the repeated with almost chant-like consistency was the shadows have eyes. When they questioned Ulrick what he had done, the noble mouse said he did nothing- how could he locked in a cell? All he said were the guards drank themselves into stupidity and then vole started rambling about seeing things move in the dark. After that- they all went frantic.

"They'll have to be questioned once they are about their wits," Aesir said more to himself then the pawbeast. "Dungeon guards are some of the hardest beasts around. What in the kingdom could have caused four of them to snap at the same time?"

Tipper looked at him blankly and Aesir waved off any possible retort. "Never mind, Tipper- just get my clothes for the day. The Lord of Ruarden's execution is at high sun."

"Right you are, sire," he chirped and slipped into the prince's dressing room. "Would you like a navy mantle or perhaps your red…"

Aesir ignored the servant's chatter. Again his mind was a jumbled mess of duties and forthcoming responsibilities as he pulled the light shirt over his head and tied the neck strings loosely to hold the fabric to his shoulders. Walking out onto the balcony to overlook the sea and the bay below him, Aesir leaned his elbows on the marbled railing while his clawtips worked at fastening buttons at his wrist. A soft motion beneath him caught his eye and Aesir watched a pink gossamer scarf waving lightly from Cerys's balcony baluster. The fabric fluttered about the sea breeze, gesturing up to him like a very banner of hope and comfort. Painfully, he recalled bits of visions from his dream and he shuddered slightly at the images that stuck in his mind.

"It was only a dream," he whispered to himself, turning away from the balcony and striding into his chamber. "It was only a dream."

* * *

Matthias watched his son with a smirk from the railing of the landing overlooking the Royal Presence Chamber. The king had just come out of his own private chambers to hear the hum of voices and sighed at the anticipation of a small army of chancellors below wanting to bend his ear; when the king did look down from his vantage point, he was pleasantly surprised to see Aesir was the one surrounded at his chamber's doorway by creatures of state demanding his attention while Matthias only had two beasts waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs.

"The tides are starting to turn," he smiled to himself and observed how Aesir listened to each creature in turn, asking questions and giving commands. His son was truly growing up and displaying promise off being able to handle the pressures of the kingship.

Descending the stairs quietly as to not draw attention to himself, the king nodded to Lord Naveen and Syr Donovan while they each performed a short bow.

"Your Majesty," they said in unison before straightening up again. Matthias glanced over to the small mob surrounding the prince. He could see the lines already starting to furrow Aesir's brow as Lieutenant Evrol hastily expelled a report from the patrols. With a visible sigh of frustration, he gave the officer a curt nod and turned to hear the concerns of Lord Conroy who would no doubt be advising him on some sort of state business on top of everything else the prince was dealing with while other envoys and lords waited around the inner circle for their turn to be heard.

"Aesir's getting a taste of his future this morning, is he?" the king chuckled. "It's nice to see them bothering him for a change."

"More than a taste I'd say," Donovan agreed with a jovial pop of his eyebrows and a rock up on the balls of his footpaws. "They've been at him for half a bell before you came out of your chambers."

"Good." Turning his attention to Naveen, Matthias' demeanour lowered to a more sombre tone. "Is everything ready?"

"Yes, sire," the elderly otter replied and resisted the urge to glance about the room to avoid the unpleasant conversation. Gesturing towards Aesir, Naveen added, "The prince has sent his shieldbeast, Loukin, to escort Lord Ulrick up from the dungeons."

"And what of the dungeon guards?"

"They are still being watched in the infirmary, Your Majesty. The healers continue to sedate them."

"My Lord Father!" Aesir called from across the chamber and fanned out the beasts encircling him with a flick of his wrist. Ten beasts bowed away from the prince as he strode forward to the king, his red cloak billowing behind him as he walked; coming to a halt before his father, Aesir put his right paw over his heart and dipped his head in respect. "Shall we get this over with?" he asked once he straightened up.

"Are you finished addressing their concerns?" the king said with a dip of his head in the direction of the attendants.

"As much as I can right now," the prince assured him. "Unfortunately, I do not have the answer yet for what they wish to know."

"You haven't found the murderer yet."

"No."

Matthias' lips tightened and he began to stride out of the presence chamber, waving Aesir to walk with him. Their pawbeasts and advisors followed behind the two royals like an armada of rich fabrics, insignia of state and gems gliding down a sea of marble flecked with sunlight from the leaded windows. Waiting until the footbeasts opened the doors so they could begin their descent towards the Grand Gallery, Matthias continued the conversation.

"You will find it soon," he reassured his son. "I have every confidence in your efforts."

"I am glad for your confidence," Aesir responded. _For I am losing it in myself._ "Conroy tells me my Lady Mother and Princess Cerys are meeting us for the execution- Is it really something they have to watch?"

"Unfortunately, yes." The king exhaled loudly. "Their place at such occasions is with their family. Ulrick's treason was against the crown and they are extensions of the crown. I will tell Cerys to look away, but your mother cannot- nor will she. She has seen this before and been strong enough to bear it. Besides," he added while fidgeting with his sleeve, "it is Ulran I am more worried about."

"You think he will try and stop it?" Aesir asked pointedly. "If you think he will be of any trouble I can have him locked in his chambers or post extra guards around him."

"No, Aesir," Matthias said with a hint of annoyance. "You cannot lock Ulran up- he is required to be there as one of my four barons."

"So, I place a few more guards around him then."

"No- just leave him be," Matthias stated. "Ulran won't try anything by force- he may plead again for his son's life, but I expect that." The king cocked his head to the side and looked at his son in the eye. "I know I would if it was you. I'd beg for us to be switched or renounce any title I ever carried in exchange for your life. I would be a wreck and can only imagine Ulran will be the same."

"But Ulrick is a traitor-"

"He is still Ulran's son," Matthias said sharply. "It doesn't matter what you do or the wrongs you make, you are our sons and it is our job as fathers to protect you no matter what the cost. You'll understand someday when you have your own son to hold and take care of."

A half smile smirked on Aesir's lips and his eyes softened slightly as he recalled his moment with Cerys on the wall. Opening his mouth to shift the topic of conversation, the prince was silenced by Matthias' order.

"We'll get through this business and then I want you to focus your attention on getting this murdering beast under control," the king asserted. "The lumberer's family have already received the purse of silver I sent them for their loss, but for Ulran I will give this creature over to him so he can extract his own justice on the thing that murdered his sister and started this shame on his house. It's not much of a consolation, but given the circumstances, it's the best I can do and perhaps will bring him a little bit of peace."

"Eurians stake murderers out flat on the grounds of the floodplains and let them drown slowly in the waters," Aesir reminded the king. "The flooding season is almost upon us- that doesn't me much time."

"Then you'd better hurry." Aesir bobbed his head in acknowledgement of the command and the two beasts continued down the hallway in relative silence; their minds reeling with thoughts. Walking past a large tapestry depicting Eutrusia nestled amidst a sea of blue waves and the sun shining above it, the realms of the Seasons and the Fates sewn carefully in the splendour and shadow of the sun, Aesir's mind flipped to a different point of conversation.

"Father, what do you know of a creature called a Ruspic?" Aesir asked in a low tone while keeping his eyes focused forward and taking in the fine details that encompassed his home.

"Very little, but that is how I wish to keep it," was the king's reply. "A Ruspic is not a thing I would want archived in detail within our records."

"But there are records of them?" the prince pressed, slowing his pace slightly to give his father a sideways glance. "In the Grand Library, there is mention of them somewhere?"

"Not in the library, but in a diary of one of your ancestors-" Matthias relented and skewed his face in thought. "King Maccus, I believe. The diary is in my private study if you wish to view it later." He paused for a moment to observe the stress marring his son's features. "Why do you ask?"

Aesir gazed over his shoulder and waved their entourage back further so the two could converse in relative privacy. "The Guard has been out since the alarm was raised yesterday and we can't find a trace of this murdering creature. Not a footprint, not a sniff of its life anywhere. Trackers can't find it, the terns report nothing from the coastlines; there is no lead, no trail to follow- only assumptions we have made based on the evidence we have before us. Ulran told us Ulyssa and Ulrick found some vermin seer, which spoke of things to come. He told us it was cloaked in black, wheezed when it breathed and fought him with a dirk. It's got some sort of limp when it walks, but other than that there's really nothing and if we can't find any tracks it's hard to identify the species…" The prince drew a large breath before continuing. "Some of the Guards are whispering about it being a Ruspic which from what I gather is some sort of dark vermin seer which brings with it malevolent intent. I have never been one to put a lot of store in tales and stories, but now that our dungeon guards have run mad from a spook in the shadows, I feel I must explore this option."

"Never one to put a lot of store in tales and stories?" Matthias scoffed and placed a paw on Aesir's shoulder. "I'll let you in on a little secret, Aesir- you're living proof there is truth in such things. You think all those tales of badger blood and Seasons' blessing are told to help you sleep better at night?"

"Well, no, but they are gifts from the Seasons-"

"And you don't think the Fates bestowed their own gifts?"

Stopping before a large window that overlooked harbour, Matthias let out a deep sigh and crossed his left paw over his body to cup his right elbow, tapping the fingers of his right paw against his lips. The bay looked so peaceful below them; the sun reflected off the water like countless diamonds and the massive ships buoyed at their slips and anchors, their golden sails tied up while the Eutrusian flags fluttered in the sea breeze on their masts. It was hard to imagine so much conflict could live amongst such serenity.

"What else do you know about the culprit?"

"All I know, I have told you," Aesir affirmed. "Do you remember what the diary said about them- any specifics?"

"From what I can recall, it wasn't much- a simple passage written almost in passing when the first successful voyage to the mainland returned back to Eutrusia. Their good news was that plague had died out and creatures were flourishing again, but if I remember correctly, it was written the shadows moved by more than the direction of the sun. Or something like that; it has been a while since I read the journal."

"And the shadows were... dangerous?" Aesir questioned.

"The sailors did not feel the mainland was safe and so all thoughts of trade with it were abandoned. It was under Maccus we focused on building our naval defenses and appointed the first Fleet Admiral of Eutrusia- to keep our island, our home, safe."

"Our ancestors were superstitious," Aesir scoffed. "Their beliefs were an exaggerated system."

"And what are beliefs if not to explain the unexplainable?" Matthias said. "Beliefs are explanations for things in need of an answer when there is not a logical one to be had. Call it luck, miracles, blessings or religion- whatever you wish it to be, but it still a mystery that demands that we just _believe_ it to be true because there is no other way around it."

"But there is no proof these Ruspics even still live," Aesir argued lightly. "There has never been one reported in Eutrusia and the only things we know about them are from lore, one passage in a diary of a half-drunken king and the ramblings of old wives' tales!"

"Then why did you bring it up?" Matthias did not wait for his son to answer and turned on his heel to continue their previous route to the Gallery; the prince stood in thought for brief moment, contemplating the king's words before tailing off after his father.

"I asked you because I can't find a logical explanation as to why I can't find this murderer," Aesir exasperated. "I'm exploring all my options."

"Why?"

Aesir swore under his breath. He hated when his father did this. He hated when he acted the tutor. The prince knew his father was simply training him to think things all the way through, using his mind to reason and shelfing his heart, but at this time, under his pressure and frustration, Aesir just wanted a simple answer, not a lesson.

"Because it's a bloody mystery is why!"

Pausing at the doors to the Grand Gallery, Matthias held up his paw to halt the footbeasts and herald from announcing their entrance; turning to his son, the king looked the young mouse in the eyes.

"Perhaps, it's time you started believing, Aesir. Given the evidence you have before you, I'd say the shadows have found their way here."

* * *

The Grand Gallery was filled with nobles and high standing beasts of the realm; Royal Guards in full regalia stood at attention on the flanks of every door and down the quarter lines of the hall, creating a traitor's trail for Ulrick to approach the dais for his last words before being stripped of his life and led to the scaffold. The dim roar of the common creatures could be heard outside of the doors as if they were a swarm of bees hungry for the sweet taste of honey; only they were not bees, but baseborn beasts and it was not honey they were after, but a traitor's last breath.

On the dais, the royal family sat on their thrones; Matthias centered their party wearing his official jewels of state and royal sceptre for the ceremony. To his left, Valina sat ridge-backed and Cerys wrung a kerchief in her paws to relieve some of her obvious stress. On the king's right, Aesir sat with particular candour, staring straight ahead to observe the mob hanging on the anticipation ebbing the air around them. After Aesir, Baroness Dellia took her official seat as part of the royal family and though she was facing forward like the rest of them, her eyes were strained across the dais where Ulran stood with the other three barons of Eutrusia , flanking down the steps beside the queen and princess. The Baron of Eurus was visibly distressed- heavy furrows creased his brow, his strong shoulders were slumped against the weight of his baronial collar and his chest heaved with the large breaths he took to calm his raging nerves. Every few exhales, one of the barons would lean back and mumble a reassuring word to him and Baron Trysten even reached back to place a paw on Ulran's shoulder in support.

At the king's right, the Lieutenants of the Royal Guard formed a similar configuration on their side of the dais; Malax, Condor, Evrol, Olan and Klein stood at attention in their uniforms and breastplates- their white cloaks pressed and draped about their bodies while they held a long spear in each of their right paws, their lefts resting on their sword hilts. Tension creased the air, pressing and stretching it over the audience of the Gallery, their ears ringing with the buzz from emulating from the walls until Matthias gave a nod and in a clunk of iron and wood the ringing shattered, sucking through the opening doors and whipping out amongst the rabble. Out of the darkness, Ulrick walked- two guards before him, two guards behind.

_One quick speech and then he hangs,_ Aesir thought to himself. _It's over and then we move on…_

"Ulrick Neefray," Matthias trumpeted, rising to his footpaws and stepping forward to the edge of the dais as the mouse drew near. "Lord of Ruarden Manor and son of Baron Ulran Neefray of Eurus, you are brought forward on account of treason to the Eutrusian crown through disregard of royal commands, murder and plotting against the life of the Etifedd." The guards halted him five paces from the dais and forced the proud noble onto his knees before the sovereign. "You have been guilty in a court of your peers and have chosen to be hung at the neck until dead as your mode of execution." A murmur rippled through the crowd and Ulran wavered slightly on his footpaws; Dellia shifted to the edge of her seat. "Do you have any final words?"

"No." Only the sound of silver ricocheting angrily off the marble flagstones broke the hushed silence as Ulran whipped off his baronial collar and threw it down on the floor.

"You daft beast!" Ulran cried and stepped out of line, stripping himself of all his effects of state as he walked towards his son. "If you are not going to beg for your life- I will!"

Kneeling down to the gasps of creatures throughout the Gallery, Ulran bent his head and spoke in a loud voice. "Your Majesties, Your Highnesses," he began. "I kneel before you to beg for my son's life." Looking up at Matthias, his eyes pleaded to his friend. "I come before you not as a noble, a baron or even as a friend- I come before you as a father. From one father to another, please, Your Majesty, please allow my son to live."

It took all of Matthias' strength to hold his conviction. "My lord baron- your son is an accused traitor. The plenty for treason is death."

"If it is death you need, take my life instead," Ulran said, bowing his head again. "I have lived my life…"

"Father, no," Ulrick muttered and stepped forward only to be blocked by Loukin's spear haft. "You don't have to do this."

"I do!" his father rallied at him. "I swore to protect you, to always keep you safe. I held you over your mother's grave and promised her I would guard our son for her. I have never broken a vow in my life and the Fates strike me down if I fall short on this."

Ulrick rolled his eyes. "You're as much as a fool as the rest of them."

"Ya ungrateful git," Loukin cursed under his breath and whipped the shaft of his spear upwards to catch Ulrick on the chin. The mouse reared back, groaning slightly and wiped his shackled paws over his bloodied lip. "That's yar father beggin' for yar life there!"

"Hold!" Aesir commanded and stood from his throne and walked to join his father. "Fall back to formation, Loukin."

"Yes, Highness," the otter said, bowing his head and stepping back to his place once more as apprehension flecked amongst the onlookers. Heads turned, whispers were spoken and silent pleas of mercy threatened to erupt at the show of Ulran's sacrifice. Quickly sensing the rising emotions of the hall, Matthias pressed against Ulrick's unremorseful behaviour to counter the baron's display of affection.

"Ulrick, you amaze me," the king scoffed. "Your father is pleading for your life- offering his life in exchange for yours- and you have the audacity to call him a fool. Have you no respect?"

"Respect I have," Ulrick replied. "It is you who should have more respect to me."

"Scum," Aesir growled and descended a step. "You dare insult the King of Eutrusia in his own hall?"

The Royal Guard snapped to attention at the prince's movement; gripping their shields and unsheathing their blades in a harmonious ring of steel. A few cries went up from the noble ladies and Syr Donovan stepped forward into the periphery of the dais, a paw on his hilt as his eyes jetted back and forth between Ulrick to Aesir to Valina and back to Ulrick again. There was something about the confidence Ulrick held that the old arms master did not like; it was too assured for a beast up against the wall- that is unless he had a way out. With measured steps Donovan padded closer to a defensive position, his footpaws barely making a sound upon the flagstones; all the while his eyes alert to the anything that moved. Tipping his ear back at the odd sound of a raspy breath, the squirrel looked over his shoulder at the pillar casting shadows into the room in a sort of door-like fashion. Before he could think more on the oddity, Ulrick's voice brought Donovan's attention before him once more.

"I am not insulting the king," Ulrick argued. "I am suggesting he stop fighting destiny and accept what will be."

"And what is that," Aesir pressed, pulling his jewelled sword from his scabbard as he descended the steps. "Me killing you where you stand?"

The haughty lord shrugged with disinterest. "You can try, but you won't succeed."

"Watch me."

"Aesir!" Matthias yelled as Olan and Klein blocked the prince's path. "Do not give him what he wants."

"Easy, Your Highness," Klein whispered as he and Olan stood a step down from the furious prince. "He's trying to get your blood up for some reason. Just stay calm." At the lieutenant's words, Aesir conceded his advance and tried to steady himself against his rising anger by clenching his teeth until his jaw muscles twitched from strain.

"Ulrick, enough," Ulran spat and rose up from his reverence to come face to face with his son. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because it is what the Fates have decided. The only path they will leave the Seasons to weave."

"Where is it, Ulrick," Ulran questioned, his eyes narrowing in distrust. "Where is the creature?"

"You should all have looked more closely upon entering the Gallery," Ulrick proclaimed and nodded to the windows beckoning the light of the day through its coloured and clear panes. "Light does not show everything, for light cannot touch a shadow."

Aesir felt the fur on the back of his neck stand on end and his hackles begin to rise, fluffing out the high collar of his crimson tunic. Glancing about the hall for an intruder, Aesir's blood pumped furiously in his veins as his grip tightened on his sword handle. Something didn't feel right. Something was wrong.

Then it moved. In the south west corner of the Gallery, a cloaked figure pulled away from the shadow of a pillar as oil separating from water. The figure stood motionless, its body and features hidden from sight by its blackened shroud and a long hood pulled up high on the beast's head, as if it were still itself a shadow and not wholly real. The air suddenly felt cold and stale, and a sense of foreboding chilled Aesir's paws despite his furiously rushing blood. With the jilting movements of a broken marionette the beast inched forward in a lame gait, causing the bystanders within its proximity to scurry away in uncertainty and fear.

Aesir swept his head backwards to look at the king. "Father," he said shortly. "What is that?"

"Get it out of my hall!" Matthias bellowed, his widening eyes betraying the brave tone of his voice. "I will not have a Ruspic in my kingdom!"


	26. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

The creature limped forward towards the dais; its shoulders slumped and yellow eyes darted about under the shadow of its hood as its limbs jerked and twitched under the strings of its invisible puppeteer. Gasps arose from the assembly while the Eutrusians pitched themselves away from it, making room for the Guards who shifted their stance to make ready for an attack, holding their position as they awaited commands from their captain.

Aesir stood rigid on the stair, his eyes wide and lips curled into a slight snarl. With every step the beast took, the faster his blood raced; with each of its rasping breaths, more of his fur stood on end until the prince was certain every inch of him was bristled out like a threatened hedgehog. Sensing movement behind him, Aesir glanced over his shoulder to see his mother, aunt and Cerys raise to their footpaws- a small contingent of bodyguards led by Syr Donovan shifting in front of them to usher the three females towards the western exit.

"I will not have a ruspic in my kingdom," Matthias repeated. "Guards- seize that creature!"

Six guards nearest the creature sprang into action, advancing on the beast with their spears pointed at chest height. With surprising agility the ruspic swooped and dodged in a swirl of blackness, narrowly missing the defenders expert attacks as they sot to wound the intruder. Catching the spear haft of a young hare, the ruspic twisted it from his grasp and brought the wood down hard on the guard's head, knocking him unconscious with a single blow. As he turned, the beast met another spear point at his chest.

"Ya not going any closer, mate," Loukin said bravely as four more guards flanked behind him and the others blocked the beast's retreat. "Jus' give up now."

A jerk rippled under the ruspic's cloak to catch Ulran's eye and the baron's half-healed leg wound burned in memory of the action's consequence. "Loukin- look out!"

But his warning came too late. The blackness whirl, the steel hissed and in an instant, Loukin left out a muffled groan into his puffed out cheeks, his body lurching up and forward as a thin blade protruded from his back. Screams from the onlookers echoed around the hall; their cries magnifying when the ruspic pulled out his dirk and the burly otter sank to his knees, expelling a mouthful of blood on impact before falling onto the cold stone to sputter out more thick gobs of red liquid with his last breaths.

Aesir was agape on the dais steps, gawking at his shieldbeast as Loukin twitched his last moments of life. Panic ran ramped through the Gallery as creatures ran about to the doors en masse in hopes of escape. Eutrusia's nobility fled in a cavalcade of eddied colour, screaming, trampling. Aesir's head reeled; it was just like his dream.

The remaining guards lunged forward at the ruspic with their spears; the steel heads collided with a sparking clank on the empty floor between them as the ruspic seemingly dipped under the shafts and out of the circle to continue his approach.

"Aesir- get back on the dais!" Matthias shouted and whirled back to Donovan. "Get the females out of here, now!" he commanded with a point of his index finger and a flick of his wrist. "Aesir, fall back-"

"Defend the king!" Olan snapped and rallied the other lieutenants into formation before their sovereigns. "Defend the Etifedd!"

"No!" Aesir took a defiant step forward, pushing his way through the line to pose a silent challenge to the cloaked figure.

"Ulrick, do you know what you have done?" Matthias gaped at the foolish mouse while the guards clamoured about the Gallery to protect their royal family, fighting through the melee of frantic nobles. "You have brought a cursed creature to Eutrusia- into my palace!"

Ulrick smiled at the fear evident in Matthias' voice. "It came to Eutrusia on its own; it has its own purpose for coming here."

"For what?" Aesir snapped. The prince waved his lieutenants to flank around the back of the ruspic and reorganize the guards into a formation. "What is it after?"

"You. You threaten its masters; it has seen you in their way."

"Aesir!" Valina gasped and broke away from her bodyguards, trotting back to the steps beside her husband. "Aesir, get back."

"Valina, stay here," Matthias gasped and wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her against him. "Aesir-"

But the prince was no longer listening to his father's commands or implores from his mother. His concentration lay solely on the ruspic as he studied it actions and gauged how it moved, looking for a weakness. At first glance the beast appeared to have many- a prominent limp, a heavy cloak limiting vision; but despite all those factors it was still quick and deadly accurate with its movements. Stopping five paces from the prince, the ruspic lifted it head to stare at him with its amber eyes shining through the darkness wreathing its face; all the while Aesir heard the ravings of the dungeon guards as they were dragged from their cornered safe house, _the shadows have eyes- the shadows have eyes._

Aesir's grip tightened on his sword handle until the gems from the hilt cut his palm, his jawbone twitched under the tension and his eyes misted with a familiar red hue.

"Ah," the ruspic wheezed taking in the prince's crimson apparel and flaming eyes. "It is you."

"State your business here," Aesir commanded, raising his sword point at the beast as his hackles flared. "Why have you come to Eutrusia?"

"You, I have seen you," it continued without heed. "The Seasons hoped to hide you in their mists, but we saw you in the fog shadows… and now I have seen you… Aesir, you can hide no more."

"Silence!" Matthias roared attracting the attention of all who remained in the room. "I did not give you leave to speak in my hall!"

The ruspic did not care. "I can see your path; I can see your thread." A gnarled paw rose from the beneath the cloak to scrape the beast's cheek, red blood reflected in the light as it dribbled down from its fingers onto its wrist. "There is a battle before you and you will fight, but a choice you must make to set things to right. A ripped hood will sit where once a coronet did light and you will know the weight of their might."

Aesir narrowed his eyes at the ruspic. His future had always been hidden from their prophets; how could this beast claim to know it? It intrigued him and he took a step closer to it, beckoning it to speak more with his wary movements.

"You have attracted the Fates. They have seen what has been created," the creature continued. "You are twin blessed- you can challenge them, but only in battle will it be decided who is stronger. They will answer the call- they are already looking to the west to see its prize and they will wait until you are weak while they grow stronger. They will come and all the stones of your golden halls will crumble where you stand!"

"Enough!" Aesir growled remembering the visions of his dream; the fires, the screams, the deaths. "Enough of your words!"

"Banners high and blood red sands," the ruspic said as it closed its eyes and rocked on its footpaws while it spoke its incantation. "Ships and sails, Guard and pike, _but_ will they defend against cors-like? Far down your line- will they stand as strong, to right the path that you made wrong?"

"I said enough!" Aesir rallied, lashing the air between them with his blade. "No more of your poisonous tongue."

"You have angered the Fates!" it shouted and pointed at Matthias and Valina. "You have made something it cannot take, but the Fates will take from you what it can: Your kingdom's future. All around you will burn, all around you will crumble!"

"I told you it would have been easier if you had died in the rebellion," Ulrick hissed from the side and all eyes shifted to where Ulran had dragged his son away from the creature. Tipping his head in Aesir's direction, Ulrick added, "How does it feel to know you will bring about the downfall of _your _house, Your Highness?"

Aesir glared at Ulrick's reversal of the prince's own slight to the noble the previous day, anger and dread welling up inside him from all directions. None of it could be true. He had his whole life ahead of him- for once, he thought his path was coming together, a course true laid, and now this shadow spoke of failure and doom. It hardly seemed possible, it hardly seemed real.

"They are watching you," the ruspic sneered at Aesir. "You are bright in their eye here. You shine too strongly. Far to the east, across the waves, they grow stronger. It will only be a matter of time before the ratlords make their bid for Eutrusia, and when they do, they will bring with them the fury of the Fates."

"Don't listen to it, Aesir," Matthias said sternly, holding Valina back with one arm as he descended a step. "It lies- its twisting you into the fate it wants for you."

"Lies?" the creature rasped its throat into a cackle. "I do not lie. Not like you, Matthias." Aesir tilted his chin to his left shoulder to glance at his father in his periphery. "Ah, so you haven't told them all you know. You've hidden your prophecy from them; you haven't told them your life is almost spent."

The statement fell onto the hall like a title wave in winter, striking the creatures within and freezing them where they stood. Aesir stepped back and twisted half way around to look at the frosted expression of his father. The prince's chest heaved in great lumps of air to control his bloodwrath; the new information enraging him further to the point where he was now curling his footclaws to stop his assault. He wanted to attack the inky creature, but they needed to know more- he needed to know more. What did the ruspic mean his father's life was almost spent? He wasn't old; he no longer had to fight now that Aesir had taken the captaincy…

"Enough," Matthias seethed out and flared his nostrils when Valina stumbled back with her paws covering her mouth and Donovan rushed forward to steady her. "Quiet."

"Strong and true for short time hold, a mighty kingdom good and bold," the ruspic recited. "No grey fur will mar thy features, an early death calls the kingly creature; live each day as t'were your last, your spool's short- thy thread runs fast…"

"How do you know that?" Matthias spat and leapt down the remaining stairs to ascend on the creature, shoving away a guard who dared to stand in his way. "No beast was there to hear that prophecy but me!"

"Father," Aesir said in a sharp tone to halt the king's advance. "Don't listen to it," the prince pleaded, trying to reverse his father's own sage words on himself. "Stay back, stay away from it."

"Matthias- please come back here," Valina called, gathering her skirts in her paws as Donovan made a lunge to pull her back, narrowly missing his grasp and trotting down the steps towards her husband and son.

"Cam- the queen!" Klein shouted from his position behind the ruspic. Cam pulled up his sword at the order, moving to intercept the female and drawing the sovereigns' gaze at his sudden jolt to action. Valina neatly sidestepped around the mouse and gasped as she saw a glint of steel reflecting the light through the thin opening in the ruspic's cloak.

"Matthias!" she screamed and Aesir had just enough time to bodily shove his father aside as a dirk flashed out, slashing through the air and catching Aesir across his left shoulder and partway down his back. The prince snarled at the burning sensation searing his skin, spinning away to the right in a full circle while pulling his blade down hard in a high arch, cutting the beast deep across its torso. The beast hunched and slinked backwards, hissing like a snake and fanging yellowing teeth at the prince. Matthias tried to tug his son backwards, but Aesir pushed him back again and stood in front of his father and mother. Ignoring the blood welling from his wound to stain his crimson tunic, he stood posed for another attack with his blade clasped in both paws to hover at eye level by the right side of his head.

"You dare make an attempt at the king's life!" Aesir snarled at the ruspic, expelling soured spittle from his mouth. "You'll die for that Ruspic!"

A low chuckled came from the belly of the beast as he held his wound; slowly it started at first, then got louder, stronger, more shrill until the cackle forced shivers down the spines of all the onlookers. Holding up its contorted paw, droplets of blood dripped from his claws and fell onto the polished floor. It gave one last rasping inhale at the sight before the ruspic shot its head forward with a single gnash of its teeth.

"A curse you will pay for your abuse against the Fates."

Aesir bared his own teeth and took another menacing step towards the creature. In a sweeping motion he brought his sword to center once more, his blood racing through his veins and muscles tightening under his fur. With each breath he took, Aesir lost a little more of his control. The ruspic stood its ground as it began to chant:

"Strong in arms and strong in heart,  
Easily learns the warrior's art.  
But twin blessings can't undo,  
The curse that has been set on you.  
A curse to break a mighty heart,  
Lay you low before Fates' cart.  
Not in life, but in hell to make,  
A life's joy is what they'll take.  
And not just yours, but theirs, too,  
Sorrow will come straight to you."

Like arrow slits, the prince's eyes narrowed at the execration. Gripping his sword in both his paws, Aesir lunged forward, whirling his blade up in a high arch and pulling it down across the creature's left shoulder. The ruspic twisted, blocking the attack with his dirk and whipping his cloak between them. Aesir pushed himself backwards away from the blackness as the ruspic thrust its blade forward to follow his motion. The prince dipped his sword down with a roll over his wrist to block the jab, turning to the side and bringing his weapon underneath the dirk. In a fluid motion he tipped it up, spinning under the screeching metal and pulling his sword the length of the blade to free its lock on the opposition. Releasing his right paw from the handle, Aesir sliced down and back with his left paw, cutting the creature deep across the back of the knee. The ruspic howled in pain, wheeling on its attacker with a ferocious snarl and lashed the prince from forehead to cheek with its claws.

Aesir reared back, growling at the burn to his skin and whipping away blood now dripping in his left eye. In a blink the ruspic was on him, raining down strikes on his sword. Aesir held his ground while he fended off the attacks, never once moving back, but steadying himself and pushing forward once more. Ramming his pommel into the side of the ruspic's head, Aesir gained a brief respite from their combat as it dropped to its knees. The mouse twirled his sword up in his paw above his head, fumbling with the off-balance of the blade as it forced all his concentration to control its roll over. His assault hesitated; the ruspic did not miss the opportunity and pressed up onto the balls of his footpaws, its dirk point posed upwards as it rose.

The dirk hit its mark, burying its point deep into opposition's torso. Aesir's eyes widened at the strike, his paws still held above his head and his sword pointed down at the ruspic. His breath was ragged and shallow, a new form of pain his bloodwrath couldn't block gripping his heart. Directly before him, Donovan stood sucking great pulls of air through his nostrils, his paws pressing on Aesir's shoulders, pushing him away from the danger protruding through the old squirrel's body.

"Where's your real sword, Aesir?" he managed to gasp out, his claws clutching onto the prince's tunic for support as the dirk twisted in its prey and the elder lurched at the new hurt. Aesir roared in anguish; stabbing down with his blade to drive the beast back while wrenching him off the ruspic's dirk as it retreated. Donovan let out a painful shout of protest and blood lapped out onto the flagstones, causing the two to slip backwards; the extra weight of Donovan slapping Aesir flat onto his back as the mouse's head cracked off the bottom step of the dais stairs. Air rushed from his lungs and stars exploded in the prince's vision.

Rolling the dying squirrel off him, Aesir groaned and tried to force himself upright. His muscles wobbled as he slid on the slick floor trying to find a foothold for his paws and his mind.

"Donny?" Aesir mumbled out blinking his eyes in a feeble attempt to control their rolling. Hearing the rustle of fabric, Aesir saw the blurred arms of his mother take the elder's paws in hers as she tried to stop his bleeding with her flowing sleeves. Muffled noises of shouted orders and countered attacks filled Aesir's ears, reminding him his fight was far from over. "Donovan?"

"Just like the arrow fletch, you never believed me," the old squirrel grimaced and tried to push Valina's attentions away. "That's not the sword meant for your paw, Aesir- where is your broadsword… the one that will keep you safe…"

Before Aesir could respond, his father hauled him to his footpaws. The prince swayed for a moment to find his balance as Matthias held him fast by the shoulders. "Run, Aesir," he said. "Get out of here. Take your mother and Cerys and run. Now."

"No." Aesir said in a menacing tone, his eyes flaring brighter in his grief. Twisting back to the ruspic he saw the Royal Guards surrounding it, holding it a bay with their spears. None of them advanced on it, fearing a curse, but Aesir was enraged beyond conscious thought of the affliction of the ruspic's words.

"If there was a word dark enough to call you, I'd be shouting it right now," he said with a deathly coolness to his tone. Pushing his pain aside, the prince stormed towards the contained creature, whipping his jewelled sword away from him and snatching a spear from the nearest guard as the blade rang hard upon the marble like the toll of a bell. Aesir shoved his way between the stalwarts to stand before the shadow.

"Get out of here," he said, his red eyes burning into the amber eyes of the ruspic. "Get out of this palace. Get out of this city. Get out of Eutrusia or by the Seasons I will end what miserable life you hold."

The ruspic curled its lip at Aesir's threat. "I am not your fight. I am only their eyes."

"Then they'll have to fight me blind."

Aesir leapt at the creature. Bringing his spear haft to hold behind his ear, the prince leaned his whole body into the strike as he stabbed downwards with the point aimed at the ruspic's throat. The creature snapped back with the puppeteer's strings to nearly miss the spear's point as it hammered itself into the floor. Aesir landed in a neat crunch on his footpaws, whirling the pole weapon above his head once to block any counter strikes before pushing off the marble with the point held upwards. Forcing the creature back, the prince began to herd the ruspic away; with every lunge the creature withdrew a step, every spear thrust it receded further still. Back the mouse drove the blackness, back towards the tossed open doors leading to the courtyard- back into the light.

Aesir spun sideways to his backpaw, hammering the butt onto the ruspic's footpaw then up to meet its chin as it lurched forward in pain. The beast reared back and Aesir squared up before his opponent once more, pulling the spear head forward and ramming it into the ruspic's stomach.

It coughed, gripping the wooden shaft as Aesir gave the weapon a final push inward and twisted the pole to cut vital organs, shoving the creature away from him. "Go back to Hellsgates, you scum," he muttered, stepping back to regain his breath and composure as the Royal Guards rushed forward. Turning back to the dais, Aesir let out a painful exhale at the sight of Loukin's body being tended by a pair of footbeasts, his father kneeling beside his mother as she hugged Donovan to her chest and then to Cerys where she stood at the base of the platform staring at him. How see had not been spirited away by the bodyguards, Aesir did not know, though he could only imagine she had broken away from them when their mother had.

Their eyes meeting, Cerys took a step forward and held out her paw to him; her emerald gown matching the green of her eyes. His own eyes began to soften, their fiery hue quelling in the calm sea of her gaze, and his blood started to slow in his veins, until the wheezing voice spoke again.

"A maid of green will walk alone,  
The sands and alleys of her home.  
Her heart empty, her eyes dry,  
Will watch her life wither by…"

Aesir wheeled around to find the ruspic pushing itself up to its footpaws, yanking Aesir's spear from its body. Its cloak hood slipped back off its head, revealing the deformed features of a black pine marten littered in scars. Taken aback by the beast's appearance, the guards dithered in their advance while the ruspic flipped the pole weapon up into a throwing position. The ruspic shifted from Cerys's direction to the center of the dais, taking aim at the king… and queen.

"No!" Aesir yelled, the vision of his mother's death flashing in his mind. Barrelling himself into the vermin, Aesir grunted against the impact as he and the ruspic flipped head over tail out of the door and down the stairs towards the courtyard, the spear and dirk clanking nosily on the marble floor as they fell.

"Aesir!" Matthias shouted as his son tumbled out of sight. Pushing himself to his footpaws to chase after them, the king was taken aback by Cerys spiriting off ahead of him. "Cerys- no!"

She made it to the doorway when Klein caught her around the waist.

"Easy, princess," he said and tightened his hold as she struggled against his hold. "This is no place for you!"

"Aesir!" she screamed as she watched the prince battle against the pine marten, both of the snarling, punching, kicking, biting at each other as they locked themselves in combat. "Aesir!"

"He's going to doom us all fighting a cursed creature," Malax spat out as Aesir ducked under a punch to land a double-fisted paw swing on the ruspic's snout. "We have to stop him."

"He's bloodwrath is too strong," Evrol said quickly. "He'll only kill us if we get too close."

"What's his ruddy memory, Olan?" Klein snapped, tossing Cerys aside into the paws of Condor and running down the steps with his short sword drawn. "What did Loukin say in Nilhand to stop his wrath?"

"How am I supposed to know?" the squirrel exclaimed, chasing after his friend. "I'm not his fiking shieldbeast!

"Pears and apples or something like that," Olan started yelling. "Walnuts and carrots…"

"Your Highness, stand down!" Klein yelled as Aesir used his shoulder to knock the vermin off balance causing it to stumble two steps back. "Captain- halt!" Klein tried again, glancing briefly at the gasping commoners gaping through the lowered portcullis grates at the sight of their prince in combat with the demonic creature of lore. Casting aside formality, he shouted, "Aesir- just stop!"

"Figs and daisies, apples and plums…" Olan kept bellowing, determined he would stumble across the phrase to bring Aesir from his fighter's haze. Even the king skidded to a halt at the top of the steps, calling his own orders to his son with no avail.

But Aesir couldn't hear any of them. All his instincts were focused on the ruspic. He had to defeat it. He had rid his kingdom of this shadow; remove the threat from his family. Onwards they fought in their weaponless battle.

Using its footpaw, the ruspic tripped Aesir; looping its arm around the prince's neck in his stumble and pulling the mouse to his chest in attempt to strangle him, carving its claws parallel to his jugular for good measure. The prince gasped as the claws burned against his fur and flesh.

The image of a dark cottage flashed before his eyes. Cerys sat beside a low burning fire in a beautiful blue gown, smiling and hugging a little mouselet in a dirty cream shirt. He saw his sword, the true Sword of the Guard, leaning against the hearth.

Aesir shook the vision from his mind and bit down hard on the ruspic's arm, breaking free as the beast reared back in surprise pain. Holding his paws like a club, Aesir hit the vermin twice across the face, stunning it and making it fall backwards onto the sides of the center fountain.

He leapt on it- plunging the ruspic's head below the water clear water. Immediately, it started to struggle, great bubbles of air billowing to the surface, but Aesir's firm grip held it down. The prince's heart was echoing furiously in ears, his vision a red blur as the moments passed with agonizing gradualness. With a final shudder and the expulsion of the creature's last reserve of air, the ruspic slumped against the fountain's edge; its body limp in the prince's paws. Slowly, Aesir let go and stepped backwards, taking deep breaths to control his rage. Around him a crowd gathered in a mix of awe and fear. Aesir's expression was still hard as he glanced around at the onlookers; nobles, servants, guards, commoners, his own family- all staring at him as a great weight of foreboding pressed down on them all.

Had that creature truly been a ruspic? A fabled creature from the myths of old? It was said to kill one was to challenge the Fates directly and the killer would be cursed. Had Aesir really killed a ruspic? Was their prince now cursed?

"Aesir?" Cerys said softly, pushing her way through the gathering crowd at the base of the steps and walking slowly to him. "Aesir?"

Aesir turned to her. Seeing the worried look in her eyes, his bloodwrath dropped from his mind and Aesir started to walk towards her, his paws outstretched to take hers. Before he reached her, a single stone fell from the walls and dropped between them; the brick was no bigger than the size of his paw, but it landed with the sound of a boulder resonating through an abandoned mineshaft. Aesir stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the stone with angst. His palace was already crumbling around him.

Giving Cerys one last look, Aesir growled and bared his teeth. Without a word, Aesir turned abruptly on his heel and strode off to the lower levels of the palace, where he could be alone with the sea.


	27. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Aesir stood in the center of his balcony overlooking the sunset as the last rays beamed out across the ocean, colouring the waters to match the warming pink and saffron tones mingling with the violet sky. Slowly, the waves rolled onto the white sands far below him- pushing their white caps over the beach only to pull its waters back into the sea once more. The prince breathed the briny air in long drags with his nose and exhaled gradually through his mouth, mimicking the motion of the waves; like he was one with the very land he called home.

_They will come and all the stones of your golden halls will crumble where you stand._

Aesir closed his eyes as the ruspic's words echoed through his mind and letting his drop forward in silent acknowledgement.

_It will only be a matter of time before the ratlords make their bid for Eutrusia, and when they do, they will bring with them the fury of the Fates._

The prince huffed at the memory and opened his eyes to continue watching the advancing twilight, willing the night to come and the tribulation that had been his day to finally come to a close. He had spent the better portion of two bells alone on the beach after he killed the pine marten reeling in his scorn for the creature and what doom it had brought to him and his kingdom. Even as he washed away blood from his wounds, Aesir ignored the saltwater's burn to his fresh abrasions and tried to focus his thoughts on countering this foreseeing. There had to be a way he could stop all of this from happening. All of it, he just had to think of a way. His father always told him there was a solution to every problem if one had the patience to think the situation completely through; all he had to do was think.

_Think,_ Aesir scoffed in his mind and gave a disgruntled snort. _How can I think when my heart is yelling so loud?_

Spinning on his heel to enter his apartment, Aesir heard a light creaking noise at his left and immediately the prince's right paw reached around his back to clasp onto the hilt of his dagger.

"Aesir?" a soft voice whispered into his dimly lit chamber from the small crevice at the ingress to the hidden passway. Pushing the concealed door open behind its covering, Cerys poked her head around the tapestry to look about the room before settling her sight on the prince standing beneath the terrace archway.

"Cerys, what are you doing here?" Aesir exclaimed hoarsely, rubbing a paw to his throat where the ruspic had burned him with its claws. Ever since the creature's touch his voice had become deeper, raspier. Letting go of his hold on the weapon, the prince relaxed his stance as she slipped in the doorway.

"What is wrong with your voice?" she queried and let her eyes go wide at the blackening wound on his neck. "Aesir, you're –"

"It's nothing," he croaked and pulled his collar up higher to disguise the injury. "You shouldn't be here."

"I was looking for you- like every beast is," she admitted. Striding to him, she clucked her tongue at his appearance; boldly taking a flap torn on the shoulder of his tunic in her paw, she added, "Why did you go off on your own? Why did you not tell any beast you were back?"

"Are they too daft to follow footprints or use their brains?" he snapped and spun round to retreat once more to the balcony. Taking two hasten steps away from her, Aesir paused and looked over his shoulder at her. "I'm sorry, Cerys. I used the old sea stair and the passways to come back undetected- I just need to be alone right now."

"Don't you think you should at least tell _some beast _you are back?"

"I said I just need to be alone. I think I have the right-"

"Alone," she said in a wistful way that added a form of wonderment to the simple word. "Alone even from me?"

"Especially from you," Aesir whispered, closing his eyes against the stab in his heart. Turning back to her, he held his paws wide. "Cerys, did you not hear what that ruspic said? I'm to be the downfall of Eutrusia- I won't have you dragged along with me."

"You aren't going to be our kingdom's downfall, Aesir," she said, moving forward to him. "You will look back on this afternoon and laugh in the seasons to come." Taking his paws in hers, she gave him a confident smile. "_We_ will look back on this. Together- remember?"

He just stared at her, drinking in the assurance exuberating from her voice, her touch, her eyes. Aesir curled his claws between hers, locking their paws together as he pulled her closer to nuzzle the side of her face.

"You make light of doom, my lady," Aesir murmured in her ear. Taking a shuddering breath, he pushed himself away from her embrace and, giving her paws a gentle squeeze, Aesir stepped back, slipping behind the floating shears onto the balcony once more.

Cerys watched his silhouette on the fabric. She saw everything he was trying to hide. The new slump to his shoulders, the running of his paws down his face and back over his ears; even as he stood overlooking the sea below, she could tell he was struggling to hold his countenance composed- all because a mad vermin poisoned the air with his words. The princess sniffed the breeze in begrudging disgust; she could smell the smoke for the pyre fire smouldering on the blackened grounds of Vasilis' basilica. The scent of burning flesh was gone from the air confirming the ruspic was now nothing but ash for the wind to blow to the shadows of the moon; ash that could float away from the chaos it left in its wake, along with the promise of her future happiness.

Huffing in anger, she clutched her paws into fists. "Aesir, it was a mad creature- you cannot take its words as truth." With her next breath, Cerys's frustration subsided and she resumed her tranquil demeanour. "Father went to the prophets once you left, _our seers_, he-" but she stopped herself from continuing. She didn't know what the prophets had seen or told the king. Cerys felt like she knew nothing about anything- as if nothing in her world was certain anymore.

How different her world had been that morning when she awoke with a smile on her face; touching her clawtips to her lips, Cerys had giggled and pressed herself deeper into the feather pillows, her heart light and full of excitement. All she could think about had been Aesir's kiss, his touch, his words; even as she chose her wardrobe she thought of his preferences- her emerald gown to match her eyes, a gold tiara encrusted with hundreds of tiny red rubies to signify his fabled title. Her whole life seemed to be moving forward with him at the center and now… now all Cerys felt was it slipping away from her.

Walking out onto the balcony, she paused to take in Aesir's rigid stance and twitching jawline. He always ground his teeth whenever he was in deep thought and took a firm posture when trouble called to counter the weight of his responsibility. Most creatures would give the prince a wide berth at such an appearance, but Cerys was not most creatures.

"Father and Mother are looking for you, Aesir," Cerys said in an even tone, placing her paw on the tall mouse's shoulders to gain his attention. "Aesir, you need to go see them."

"I will, Cerys," he responded, his voice becoming increasingly strained as he conversed. "When I calm down, I will go see them."

There was a slight whip to his voice which told her not to press the issue, but whereas Aesir bottled his feelings deep within himself, Cerys's anxiety was better conveyed through speech.

"Mother won't stop crying," Cerys sighed, walking to the railing and looking over at the sea below. One by one the waves rolled out over the white sands, stretching, reaching, grasping, before falling short of their unknown quarry and receding back into the ocean once more. "She says it is her fault."

"It's not Mother's fault," Aesir snapped and let his paws flap against his sides. "This is no beast's fault," he relented. _No beast but mine._

"I know that, Aesir," Cerys breathed. She was almost afraid to look at him, fearful at what she would see in his features. Closing her eyes, she whispered, "What are you going to do?"

Aesir pondered her question for a moment before giving her a truthful reply. "I'm not sure, Cerys," he said matter-of-factly. Going to the railing, the prince leaned his elbows on the banister beside her and put his left paw on hers where they were folded neatly over one another on the marble. "I'm not sure what I am going to do- but I do know I have to keep you safe; you and our kingdom."

Cerys rested her head on his shoulder and smiled when his right arm encircled hers to embrace her closer to his body. Glancing up at him, she noted his furrowed brow and drawn features.

"This isn't your fault, Aesir," she said, twisting in front of him and cradling his face between her paws. "You have to stop blaming yourself for this."

"I can't help it," Aesir confessed and took her paws to hold between them once more. "If I didn't kill the ruspic- "

"Eutrusia's endangerment has nothing to do with the ruspic's curse, Aesir," Cerys asserted. "These rats are-"

"It is because of me the rats are coming," Aesir interrupted her. "The ruspic said so. For whatever reason, I've attracted their attention and they will be planning an invasion. Because of me, they… I am a danger to my own kingdom- the very kingdom I was born to rule and protect –"

"And you will protect it," she said softly, smoothing her gentle touch over his worried brow. "You are the Red Prince remember; Eutrusia's great warrior-prince who will be her great warrior-king. You won't let her fall- even in the ruspic's curse on you he said the Fates can't take your life and you will be ever true."

"Yes, and that I would live a life of hell," he growled. Placing his paws overtop of hers, Aesir gently removed them from his face to hold their paws clasped between them. Softening his voice, he added, "Cerys, I'm cursed to a life of sorrow- one with no joy in it. You should stay away from me."

She shook her head. "No." It was an answer which brook no retort. Bending her elbows to bring their paws up to her heart, Cerys leaned into his shoulder and closed her eyes against the tears that welled up when Aesir rested his cheek on her head.

"Great Seasons, Cerys," Aesir muttered and kissed her headfur. "What am I going to do with you?" She turned her face up to look into his eyes, the sunset casting a golden hue on her features. Aesir let his lips curl into a smirk as he moved his paw to cup her cheek. "How am I supposed to keep you safe from harm if you don't listen to me?"

The princess rolled her eyes. "There is no harm, Aesir; not while you're here."

"There will be," he countered. "One day, when I'm old and weak… Cerys, what if I can't save you? Save our kingdom? What if all these things come to pass and I watch the halls crumble around you and-"

She raised her finger to his lips to silence his ramble. "Aesir, you won't let these things happen- I know you won't." The prince's look was enough to tell Cerys he didn't believe her. "You honestly believe that vermin's words- that Eutrusia is in danger? Aesir, the prophets have not seen anything like this… if Eutrusia's safety was in jeopardy do you not think they would have had a seeing? Or better yet- if you were to fight in a _losing _battle do you not think they would know?"

"They can't see my path and from the little bits of it they did, all they saw was me leading a great army in-"

"To victory." Cerys's words were firm. "You have command over the greatest fighters in the land," she continued, "Our fleet is the strongest in the Western Sea. I say let these rats come and show the Fates know what happens when they challenge Eutrusia- when they challenge you."

"And here I thought I was supposed to be the warrior," Aesir mused and pressed himself against her body. "Where is this courage coming from, my love?"

"You are the warrior," Cerys giggled despite the seriousness of their conversation. "But you're thinking too much with your mind, Aesir- you need to think with your heart. Your heart will tell you what to do if you listen to it."

"My heart," Aesir said slowly and blinked at the puzzlement floating in his mind. He had heard that advice before from some other beast, but where?

"Yes," Cerys nodded. "Your heart will tell you how to act when the time is right, Aesir. Trust in that."

The bells tolled, breaking the magic between them. Cerys took a reluctant step back from him, blushing slightly as she did so. "I shouldn't be here," she whispered. "At least not alone with you here."

"Oh, so now you're worried about being around me," Aesir smirked and let his arm stretch out as she pulled her clawtips away from his paws.

"I'm not worried about being around you, I just- well, I shouldn't be seen alone in your chamber with you, it's… it's not proper."

"No, it's not," he simpered and gave her a playful wink. "I thank-you, my lady, for potentially forfeiting your reputation if only to ensure my well-being."

"A sacrifice for the good of the realm," she tittered while she dipped him a shallow curtsy.

"A sacrifice?" Aesir laughed at her use of the word and watched as she slipped behind the balcony sheers to disappear into the dim candlelight of his chamber. "Don't you think that's a little strong a word for that?" he added while following her back into the room.

"Sacrifice is sacrifice, whether it be great or small; it's the ultimate gift to give, for the benefit of all," Cerys quoted an old saying from their mother. Lifting the tapestry away from the hidden door in the wainscoting, Cerys looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. "I'm only a princess, Aesir, I can't give much in the ways of protection to our kingdom, but I can make sure those who can protect it are safe and well. If that means I have to sneak around passways and cause myself to be slandered, well then, so be it. I can sacrifice that if it helps ensure our kingdom's protection."

_Sacrifice,_ Aesir thought and rolled the word over in his thoughts. The foggy memories of his dreams were coming back to him through certain words she kept saying. Heart. Courage. Sacrifice. Mists swirled in Aesir's head as he watched her fumble with the door and gather her skirts in her left paw to fit through the narrow opening. Going forward, Aesir held the ingress open for her and handed her a candle.

"Be careful on your way back, Cerys," he said out of habit, his mind replying on common practice as his thoughts twisted and looped in his head. "I'll go visit Mother and Father, and please don't worry about all of this. I will put it to right- somehow."

"The courage of one can save an empire," she recited as she made her way through the darkness of the passway. "Remember Aesir, all it takes is one with the courage to act to make a difference."

Aesir's eyes popped at the phrase as he remembered a dream from long ago: A battle-scarred mousemaid standing alone on the beach with broken weapons and advice he was meant to heed, actions he was meant to follow. As he watched Cerys's candle flicker out of sight around a corner, he exhaled with a burn in his throat, "Through my sacrifice, you will all be safe."

* * *

Night fell on Palace Vasilis; its dark hues of indigo and mauve cooling the great stone walls and bathing the corridors with the white light of a waning moon through the leaded windows. Nobles and servants alike retired early to their chambers, weary of the day's events and cautious as to what the next day would bring. Even the streets of Aurelius were abnormally quiet- its citizens not dallying in their nightly duties and seeking the warm fires of their cottages, their minds filled with gossip and dread. One by one, candles extinguished like flitters of hope and the only sounds of life were the odd calls from the harbour as foreign sailors and passenger vessels readied their vessels to leave at first light; their desire to leave a kingdom rumoured to be cursed greatly outweighing the potential profit procured from their continued occupancy. In the distance, rumbles of thunder rolled in the gathering clouds on the horizon. Large thunderheads billowed in the warm southern air, their dark façade lighting white with intermitted flashes of lightning as it slowly etched its way across the starry sky.

In the center of the Great Gallery, Aesir sat alone in a moonbeam; the shadows of the window irons casting the look of bars on his body, like he was encased in a prison. Silently, he stared up at the large tapestry depicting all the mice ever to sit on the Eutrusian throne, recalling each of his ancestors' names and the great deeds they had done for their kingdom. He had always sought their guidance in his younger days when he was troubled and by either his own eventual thought process or some sort of divine counsel, if he sat long enough, the prince usually came upon a solution of rational means. All the same, seeing he was part of such a great line of leaders made him naïvely believe that he too possessed the qualities it took to be a great king one day like his father, his grandfather, and all his ancestors before him.

What a kingdom they had built out of the tribes of creatures and wild landscapes of the island, each generation carving its way into the history scrolls and tomes of glory. Wealth, laws, peace; they raised cities and constructed huge residences for noble families. Power on the waves, might on the sands, Eutrusia was a guiding light of prosperity and learning in the Western Sea- the greatest island in the waters. All looked to them for support and safety; but what if they could not protect themselves?

Aesir rose to his footpaws, his shadow lengthening as he walked towards the windows overlooking the sleeping city below. On the inky waters of the bay, ships bobbed at their anchors over the growing waves flowing to the land from the impending storm, their flags fluttering in the rising breeze. His whole world seemed to be hanging on a balance with Aesir himself at the center; one step in either direction would tip the scales towards ill fate, or by some miracle, a bright future. The Fates were playing a game with his life, but now it was his move- his time to turn the tables.

"I will not allow the Fates the upper paw," Aesir rasped to the darkness, his eyes hard with determination and purpose. "I must take away their advantage."

He turned back to the tapestry and instantly his eyes settled on the portrayal of his likeness clad in armour and wielding his sword and shield. He was a fighter. He was a warrior. He knew not how to yield. Tightening his lips and furrowing his brows with resolve, Aesir allowed blood to rush through his veins in ire. He could not allow the ruspic's words to materialize- he would not allow harm to come to his kingdom, to his family… to Cerys. From his earliest lessons he had been taught it would one day be his responsibility to protect Eutrusia from harm; he was the island's Etifedd, the heir to the throne- the one beast whom the future of the kingdom rested upon. How his tutors had been right.

Striding towards the arras, Aesir clenched his jaw as his heart pumped furiously against his chest. He knew which way to make his move; which way to play his turn. Whatever step he took, the balance would tip and they would all be in danger, yet what if he didn't make a move left or right, but simply jumped from the scale leaving his kingdom perfectly in balance? If he removed himself for the game, he could no longer be a pawn to use against his kingdom, but a player in the mists waiting for his next turn.

Taking the dagger from his belt, he jumped on to the altar below the tapestry and held the blade over the fabric.

"If I don't exist, then none of it will happen," Aesir husked out to himself. "If I hide, they won't be able to find me." Stabbing his dagger into the cloth, the prince began severing his depiction from the woven cloth. "If they can't find me, they won't come to Eutrusia- there will be nothing for them here. I have to draw the Fates' eye away."

With a final slice of the knife, Aesir yanked the tapestry free from the few stragglers of strings and sheathed his dagger behind his back once more. Winding the tapestry into a hasty roll, he stuffed it into his tunic to jump off the altar and took off at a steady trot down the halls of the palace towards his chamber. His heart was telling him what to do and he had to act quickly- there was no time to turn back now, he could only go forward.


	28. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Cerys looked up at the blinking stars as she walked across the palace ramparts. Unable to sleep, the princess had decided to take a night time stroll in hopes the cool night air would calm her nerves enough that she would be able to settle into some much needed rest. Even as she strode along the stone paths, Cerys wrung her paws anxiously and chewed on the insides of her cheeks.

According to the king, the prophets could not see anything to do with Aesir's fate and Celton himself was having difficulty scrying Eutrusia's future. Her Aunt Dellia reported Ulran was trying to gain more information from Ulrick about the ruspic's visions from his cell where he had been placed back in the dungeons. Her mother was a statue of silent tears, the overwhelming emotions of grief and trepidation stilling her tongue. And then there had been Aesir; jaw set and dutiful, he had been present for their father's hastily drawn together plans all the while only half-listening as if he had an agenda of his own. Whenever he spoke, his voice was so strange she had trouble believing it was him speaking and not some stranger using his body as a puppet. Eventually, he stopped voicing his thoughts and corresponded with gestures instead. But that was not the only thing that was strange about him; there was a coldness to his eyes that told her he was hiding something - and it was that something that was weighing heaviest on her mind. Not even the premonition of Matthias' early death was able to focus her attention long before her thoughts strayed back to Aesir and his secretive plans.

She stepped lightly across the stones, trying to detract any attention towards herself as she pulled the cloak tighter around her body to ward off the night chill. The sentries marched on next set of scaffolds, conversing amongst themselves as they prepared for a guard change, their eyes ever keen to the movements outside the palace walls. Her presence was barely noticed, but that was how she liked herself to be. She did not mind being invisible.

Out of the periphery of her vision, a movement caught the princess' eye as a shadow darted across the courtyard. Her breath caught in the back of her throat and blood frozen in her very heart as she turned towards the inner bailey to see the figure slink against the sidewall; its dark cloak wrapped around its body as it stood a motionless pillar, blending into the shaded columns. Just as Cerys opened her mouth to raise the alarm, the shadow moved and ducked beneath an outcrop to the storeroom housed in the wall. As it did so, a familiar red flash glinted in the moonlight above the figure's right shoulder where a sword hilt protruded from the disguise. She knew that pommel stone- but what was he doing?

The glimmer caught more than her eye. A guard on the east wall gave a shout and torches immediately filled the courtyard as the night watch searched for the source of the sighting. Cerys herself feel back into the corner of the turret, waiting with her gaze focused on the low wooden door. Three times a guard walked by it and paused, looking about the ground for any sort of tracks, until finally the exploration was called off and the sentries returned to their posts. Pulling her own cloak hood up high on her head, Cerys trotted towards the stairwell, floating down it as if she was nothing but a breeze and slipping into the door to the adjoining storage space.

_What are you doing, Aesir,_ she thought to herself as she squeezed between crates of potatoes and carrots stored there as overflow from the kitchens. _What in the Seasons are you doing?_

Rounding a pile of wheat sacks, Cerys spied the shadow crouching between the door and the musty window, its head looking out the glass for any advancing torchlight. Without hesitation she noted a haversack slung on his back with his sword and his now open cloak exposed his common dress in a plain shirt and jerkin. No fine clothing, nor gems or gold adorned his clothing- there was nothing to distinguish himself from what he truly was to what he was trying to become.

She wanted to scream at him- to yell at him and demand to know what he was doing. Why was sneaking around in the middle of the night and dressed like a peasant, but all she could muster was a barely audible whisper. "Where are you going?" she squeaked out from the shadows.

He stiffened at the sound of her voice, turning and squinting in the darkness. "Cerys?" he breathed and stood up tall, his paw going to his side where his dagger was buckled to his belt.

"Where are you going, Aesir?" she said again and moved into the moonlight. His stance relaxed and Aesir heaved a visible exhale. Letting go of his dagger hilt, the prince questioned, "How are you here?"

"I couldn't sleep and was taking the air when I saw you run across the courtyard," Cerys shrugged with disinterest and took a stern step forward. "Where are you going, Aesir?" she tried for a third time.

Even in the dark of the storeroom, she saw him wince as if the truth were a sword to his heart. "Away," he answered, his voice heavy with strain. "I'm going away."

Her world stopped. Gaping at him in the blue light of the room, she took a step closer to him and paused. This wasn't like him. He never acted the coward. How could he be running away from everything?

Her heart won the battle of her footpaws and she ran to his side. "You can't," Cerys gasped and clasped his paws. "Aesir, please- you can't do this."

"I have to Cerys," he croaked out and cleared his throat to no avail. "I'm a danger to everybeast if I stay. I have to pull their attention away from here."

"You can't leave me alone here," Cerys said in disbelief, falling into his strong arms and letting tears fall down her cheeks as he kiss her headfur. After all they had professed to each other since the last evening and now he was casting her aside like his words were empty. "You can't leave me."

His arms moved around her body and held her tight to his chest. "It's for your own safety. I want to keep you safe-"

"And what about what I want?" Cerys interrupted him, raising her gaze to look into his eyes.

"What do you want, Cerys?" Aesir murmured and carefully wiped away her tears from her cheeks with his clawtips.

She blinked owlishly at him before saying, "Don't you know?"

"Cerys…" His foreign voice was full of heartache and his eyes were gentle, but yet he held firm- no declaration of love escaped his lips, no passionate embrace. In her heart, Cerys feared he had reconsidered his feelings for her, that perhaps he did not care for her as much as she had imagined. Taking a step back from him, she bit her lip against new tears and clutched her paws together until they whitened.

"We aren't really brother and sister, you know," Cerys whispered, grasping at any rational explanation that could have changed his mind about her. "Father found me abandoned by the sea. He brought me back here to ease Mother's sorrow for the loss of your brother. It was her decision that I should be raised like a princess, but never as your sister."

"I know," Aesir replied. "I remember when Father brought you home."

Above them, they heard the pawsteps of the guards making the sentry change as the bells tolled in the towers. With a sigh, Aesir tried to walk past her, but Cerys moved to bar his path. The prince gave her a surprised look, shifting his weight between paws and flicking an ear back at the loud stomp above them before they were peppered with dust from the ceiling.

"I've always loved you, Aesir," Cerys said boldly as the bells chimed to ten. "Don't you love me?"

"Cerys, it doesn't matter now," Aesir hissed and pushed his way past her as he strode to the door. "I have to go… please, don't make this harder than it already is-"

"Answer me, Aesir!" she exclaimed, her voice rising to a higher pitch than she intended in her distress.

Aesir stayed his paw over the door latch. Closing his eyes briefly as if to muster a last reserve of strength, he rocked forward on his footpaws to leave, then with a trembling exhale, rolled down on his heels once more. Spinning back to her, he crossed the four paces between them to gather her into his arms. Cerys had barely enough time to take a hurried breath before his lips were on hers, kissing her and weaving his paws into her loose headfur. Blood pumped furiously through her veins as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, determined she was never going to let him go. When their need for air was too great, he gently pulled away from her and held her face between his palms.

"Cerys, I have loved for as long as I can remember," Aesir stressed, resting his forehead on hers, he added with as much tenderness as his new tone would allow, "Cerys, I love you… I love you."

"Take me with you," Cerys pleaded. "I will go anywhere with you, Aesir. Anywhere. Everything will be alright as long as we are together."

"Cerys, I can't," Aesir rasped and squeezed her paws tight. "The only way I can keep you safe is to leave you. I can't guarantee where I will go or what I will do-"

"It doesn't matter," Cerys cried, curling her fingers between his. "We'll be together. That is all that will matter."

"And what of our family, Cerys?" Aesir inquired. Leaning back from her, he uncoiled a paw and motioned about the walls. "And Eutrusia? What will come of all this?"

"I don't care!" she replied childishly.

"Cerys, I need you to stay here," Aesir reiterated. "Here in Eutrusia, I know you will be safe and through you our family will stay safe. Please, Cerys, do this for me." Pulling her back at arm's length he looked into her soft green eyes. "Will you do that for me?" he continued, looking deep into her eyes. "I need you to be my star, Cerys- my constant, my rock. I need you to hold me true to my course. I need you to be solid, so I can stay strong knowing what I am doing is keeping you all safe."

"But what are you doing, Aesir?" Cerys questioned. "What do you think you are going to accomplish by running away?"

"I'm not running away," Aesir confessed. He took a moment to rub the soreness of his throat; willing the burning sensation to leave so he could continue. After a painful swallow, he spoke in a cricked guttural voice, "At least not in the way you think I am, I-" he hesitated as he collected his thoughts into a reasonable plan. "I'm going into hiding, Cerys. I'll pull the Fates' eye away from Eutrusia. If I can, I will try and stop these rats the ruspic spoke of before they find their way to our kingdom, but to do that I must get away from here."

Cerys just stared at him. "Let me come with you- let us be together…"

"Cerys, I want nothing more in this world than to be with for the rest of my days," Aesir said plainly. "To hold you in my paws and love you- I will dream of nothing else for the rest of my life, but that is all it can be- a dream."

She shook her head at him and stepped back, unable to process the reality before her.

"Listen to me," he said and slipped a paw beneath her chin to force her eyes to look into his. "If I stay here, if I let our lives become a blissful revelry, the threat to our kingdom will only grow stronger. The rats will come and the walls of Vasilis will crumble around us while the realm burns. No matter how much I desire it, my wants do not outweigh the duty I hold to my country. I swore oaths, Cerys, the very day our father found you I vowed to uphold the laws of our kingdom and lead it through all hardships. I swore to protect Eutrusia with my life when I became the Captain of the Royal Guard. I have to fulfill my promises now, Cerys- regardless if it breaks my heart to do so."

The chains raising the portcullis clunked around the gears, reminding them of the narrow timeframe for his flight. Cerys reached out and clasped his paw as he went to turn away from her again.

"Aesir, you're sacrificing your own happiness for-"

"For my kingdom," he stated with a sad smile. "And so my curse begins." Without another word, Aesir adjusted the cloak hood on his head and slipped out of the door to his escape from the palace; Cerys following quickly in his wake.

* * *

Thunder resounded above as the two mice worked their way down the streets and alleyways of Aurelius towards the docks. Having narrowly absconded through the gates of the palace, Aesir and Cerys strode down the near naked paths without so much as a beggar pleading for coins. At first Cerys had been content to hang from his arm and simply relish their final moments together, but as they drew closer to the harbour, Aesir's decision became more of a reality.

"Where do you think you are going to go?" Cerys hissed at him as they walked on the deck boards. The harbour was always a busy place in Aurelius, but that evening sailors and dockyarders moved about their business with a stiffened pace; their usual jests and songs replaced by curt nods and pitched shouts. Above them all Saelmere Keep loamed overhead, watching the tension rise to its towers, its windows alike with candles giving it the appearance of a thousand-eyed beast in the darkness.

"I told you," Aesir said, keeping his voice low to avoid being overheard least some beast recognize his voice. "I'm going away- east, hopefully. At least that's where the ruspic said the rats were."

"Yes, but how? Swim, I suppose?" Her voice had a mocking ring to cover up the hurt bubbling to the surface. Looking around the busy wharfs, she acknowledged there to be a least ten vessels ready to set sail, not counting the Royal Fleet ships which were kitted for voyage at any given time. Glancing down the docks, Cerys spied _Mawredd_ sleeping soundly in her slip; the sheer size of the flagship dwarfed even the large merchant boats and her golden sails glistened in the moonlight despite being drawn up and tied.

"A ship," Aesir replied matter-of-factly over his shoulder, breaking her observations.

"And you think you can order a royal vessel to take you somewhere without Father finding out?" Cerys said in exasperation, trying anything to get him to stay. "Or the admiral for that matter- you don't think he will tell you, make you, stay?"

"Who said anything about a royal vessel?" Aesir scoffed and started down the dock where a group of creatures were still loading their cargo. "I'll take a passenger ship. Rumours about the ruspic will have any without roots wanting to travel to another island. I'll catch one to the Clawlings, or perhaps Oremere. From there, I'll find one headed to the mainland. Worst case, I'll work as a deckpaw."

"Aesir, don't go!" Cerys gasped and pulled at his paw to stop him. "You can't leave here, you… you just can't!"

"Cerys, I told you once we sometimes have to go far away to protect those closest to us," Aesir whispered. Bringing her close, he breathed in the smell of oranges and cloves, locking the scent forever in his mind. "I have to leave, my love."

Lightning flashed above them and Aesir brought her paw up to kiss her fingers.

"Aesir, don't do this," Cerys implored as he let go of her paw. "Stay here. Stop being brave."

"I don't know how else to be, Cerys," Aesir said. His voice was fully strained now and beyond even his own recognition. Clearing his throat once more against the sear, his own blood chilled at the wheezing sound that escaped his lips. Instantly, he froze and let his paw fly to the blackened mark marring his copper fur. Had _he_ just made that sound?

Not wanting to hear his mind's on answer, Aesir pulled the cloak hood down further over his eyes and struck out towards a pair of otters watching a line of passengers boarding a ship. The two seasoned seabeasts conversed amongst themselves, but stopped their chatter when Aesir bypassed the fare collector and walked straight towards them.

"Oi!" the hedgehog called from his chair and table. "Ya gotta pay before ya c'n broad! Cap'n, there's –"

"I got it," the wiry of the two otters said with a raised paw of acknowledgement, suspiciously eyeing the approaching mouse.

"Settin' sail?" Aesir asked in as common a tone as he could enunciate. The two otters furrowed their brows at his tone and gave each other a cautious glance.

"'S what it looks like, ain't it, mate?" the captain responded and scoffed when the growing wind flopped his plume forward on his face. With an exaggerated snort, he flicked the feather back over his head.

"Where're ya headed?"

"Thalle," the captain drawled out, looking up at the clouds beginning to roll in above them. "Droppin' half this lot in Thalle on t' eastside o' Oremere, then we're gonna try pushing further east. Gonna make a run for t' mainland – for Southsward."

It was too good to be true. Reaching in to the folds of his jerkin for a pouch of coins, Aesir muttered, "How much for passage – ta Southsward?"

"Ye haven't paid?" the captain leered at him, eyes sparkling with the idea of a premium. "Well, now –"

"Ship's full," the other otter piped. "We ain't takin' anymore passengers." At the surprised look from his captain, the sailor leaned in and added, "I don't trust 'im, cap'n. That voice o' his belongs t' a beast six feet under – an' we can't even see his eyes –"

"Oh, Arvad, ye superstitious ol' coot!" the captain barked and clapped his rudder on the dock. "What do ye think he is – t' walkin' dead?"

"Still, I dunno, cap'n," Arvad breathed, narrowing his eyes on Aesir. "I smell somet'ng."

"Yeah, _profit."_ Turning his attention back to Aesir, the captain winked, "Well, mate, it's like me first-mate said – ship be full to the bowsprit; _but_ I could make room for ye. For a price, o' course."

The prince's claws stilled on the pouch of coins and dropped them back into his pocket. "How much?"

"Passage and safety on t' high seas all t' way to the mainland?" the otter mocked "A king's ransom, mate."

"Done."

Aesir turned back to Cerys and beckoned her forward to him; without hesitation she slipped away from the shadow of a crate stack, pulling her own cape around to hide her identity.

"Do you have any jewellery about you, Cerys?" he whispered and felt her fingers for rings. "Anything of value?"

"I-" she began and bit her lip as his paws found a lone gold bracelet under her sleeve. A slow smile curled his lips.

"May I?" he asked as he undid the clasp.

"If I let you have this, you'll leave," she mumbled and blinked a tear back when he took it off and kissed the underside of her vacant wrist.

"Yes," he agreed and wiped away the stray tear. There was no use in debating it any further; his mind was set as much as his heart was breaking to leave her. He couldn't delay any longer- the sailors were starting to untie the staylines and dropping the canvas. "Cerys?"

All she could manage was a shaky nod and Aesir tossed the heavy gold jewellery to the two otters.

"There," he said as the captain gaped at the intricate design and scrolling details of the bracelet – its diamonds glinting in the waning light of the moon. "That should be more than enough t' get me where you're goin'," Aesir assured hoarsely.

"Aye, that'll do, matey!" the otter laughed and bit hard on the gold to test its quality. "Sign ye name into t' roster an' –"

A single gold coin flew towards them and Arvad snatched up from the air with his webbed paw. Twice he flipped it over in his paw, inspecting the chip for counterfeit, before looking up at the mouse once more.

"No name," wheezed the hood.

"Right matey, welcome to _Rainya_- finest passenger vessel this side o' ta Gillians," the captain crowed and grabbed the gold from his first-mate. Shoving the bracelet and coin into his belt pouch, he strode up the ramp, calling over his shoulder as he did. "C'mon abroad - time t' shove off!"

Aesir gave a curt nod and turned back to Cerys. "Seems we got here just in time."

"Aesir, don't do this," Cerys begged. "Don't go- don't say goodbye.

"Farewell, then."

"No!"

"Goodbye, Cerys," Aesir said bravely and pressed his forehead to hers, drinking in every last memory he could of her.

"All paws on deck!" the otter yelled from the bow as the crew climbed the masts and pulled taunt the lines. Pointing at Aesir he shouted, "Ye there! Git aboard ta ship if yer comin', mate! Ye paid yer fare, but I'll leave ye behind if ye hold up me on t' tide!"

"Coming, Captain!" Aesir replied, lifting his paw up in acknowledgement. Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed the sky in a sheet of white light. "I have to go, Cerys," he said. "He'll want to get away from the bay's edge before this storm makes landfall. Keep this a secret, Cerys. When they can't find me in the morning- you know nothing. Promise me Cerys. Swear it."

"Only for you," Cerys said quietly as she fussed with his jerkin buttons. "I will never see you again?"

It was a question he did not want to answer; one he did not know the answer to - only the likelihood. "No."

She turned her face up to him, her eyes welled with tears. "Please Aesir, don't…"

He couldn't take the look in her eyes, the pain he caused in them and the sorrow. "Goodbye, Cerys," Aesir said quickly before he could second guess his actions, kissing her on the lips painfully and closing his eyes to his own tears. Releasing her lips as fast as he claimed them, Aesir spun on his heel and strode over to where the dockyarders were untying the ship.

"Wait!" she cried, picking up her skirts and running to his side. Her cloak hood fell back from her head and a mass of curls cascaded down her back from where they had loosened from their style. Quickly, she pulled it back up again and glanced nervously around the dock for any who might have seen; but there was no beast around – they were all alone.

"Cerys?"

"Goodbye," she started as she let her palms rove over his face and shoulders, memorizing the feel of him in her paws. "Promise me you will think of me and… and dream of me?"

"I will, my love," Aesir said sadly, "Every day."

"You love me?" Cerys questioned, needing to hear the answer on last time.

"Is the ocean blue?" Aesir smirked and kissed her one last time. The ship bobbed on a wake and creaked its way into motion, the captain's calls echoing with the growing storm. Aesir gave Cerys a brave smile and ran down the dock, leaping over the void of water to clasp the side rigs of the hull.

"Goodbye, my love!" he called to her, hanging half off the vessel to wave at her as they glided over the waters. "I'll love you for all of the rest of my days!"

She raised her own paw and started waving back as she stood all alone on the dock. She would wave until the ship was out of sight, just as their mother had taught her. Sadness welled up inside Aesir at the realization he would never see her again. He would never hold her again or look into her soft green eyes. But with his sacrifice, she would be safe. Eutrusia would be safe. He thought back to the emerald ring his mother wore on her paw to remind her that the courage of one could save an empire. Right now, he was that courage, as much as it pained him. Slowly, he started to hum to the motion of the ship as it carried him away from his home, adding in words as they came to him.

"Goodbye my love, I won't lie to you,  
I'm sorry to leave you it's true.  
Goodbye my love, I'll miss you,  
As sure as the ocean is blue.  
Goodbye my love, I'll think of you,  
And all of the memories we've made.  
Goodbye my love, I'll dream of you,  
And all of the plans that we've laid.  
Goodbye my love, I'll love you,  
For all of the rest of my days."

It wasn't until they past the bay towers that the otter called Arvad popped his head over the railing to look at him.

"Er, ya comin' up, matey, or are ya jus' goin' t'hang off t' side for t'rest o' the voyage?" he jested and held down a paw. Aesir sighed and clasped onto the mouse's arm with his free paw and let the sailor haul him up on the deck. Adjusting the hood to hide more of his features, Aesir muttered a quick thank-you and leaned over the railing to watch the shrinking harbour and the love that it held.

"Ye sure ye want t' leave her?" Arvad asked from behind the mouse. "Still not too far t' jump off 'n swim back."

"No, I don't want to leave her," Aesir breathed, grimacing at the crackling tone. "But I must."

The otter started to paw backwards, giving the creature a wide berth. There was something not quite right with him and now standing behind him, Arvad could see the tip of a broadsword peeking out from the bottom hem of his cloak. "Well, ya'd best get below before this storm hits," he offered. "A landlubber like ya not wanna get wet!"

Aesir ignored the comment and continued to watch his country fade into the distance. Wave by wave he was carried away from his homeland and everything he held dear. Wave by wave he was thrust into fate. Often during his studies, the prince had come across a point in history where the hero had a chance to turn back, but somehow they had muscled forward and pressed on; and the ship with the storm brewing above, Aesir felt like he was standing upon that brink. He far from considered himself a hero, but it was his time to make a difference.

_The courage of one can save an empire._


	29. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

A stoat sat cross-legged on the outcrop of a rocky crag, the waves slapping against the sea cliff below him in rolls of bursting foam and white caps as he stared out into the muted grey tones of the foggy Eastern Sea. His russet apparel was caked and hardened with sea salt, blending him into his perch as if he was nothing more than a hunk of chiselled rock. Under his hood, the stoat's fur was pox marked from an infestation of fleas from his younger days and though the pests had been exterminated long ago, his fur had never grown back properly. It was how Fleanip earned his name; at least, the only name he now went by.

Rolling his shoulders against the spring dampness, Fleanip puffed out a cloud of air before snorting back snot and expectorating it with a loud hawk into the sea. He didn't favour watch duty, but Fates-be-damned if he was going to complain. The last beast that did had been left on the ledge for five days without food or water to remind him of his duty. Gulliver had been a fool for mouthing off to a captain and he had paid for his loose tongue with his life; Fleanip was not about to make the same mistake. He would keep his mouth shut and by nightfall a rope would drop to haul him up; another watcher would take the post and he could slink back into the shadows and down to the cave, to their home.

He gave another scan of the horizon for the anticipated ships before taking a thin flask from his vest pocket for a drink. The reddish liquid burned his throat as he down a mouthful, but it instantly took away the chill from his body. Smiling in contentment, the stoat corked the brew and squinted out to sea as dark shapes loomed in the fog before him; immediately, he sat up straight and reached back into the fissure behind him to retrieve a weathered-looking spyglass. One, two, three, four ships he counted, sailing straight for the sea cliff. Manoeuvring the his magnified sight up to the top mast, Fleanip was barely able to make out the green banner flapping in the wind; its emblem of a snake clasped in a paw of curled claws animated with the motion, making the paw appear to be tightening its grip on the snake while it writhed in anguish. They were back.

Rising to his knees, Fleanip selected a hollow arrow from its hiding place and bit down on the shaft with his eyetooth to create a series of four holes; notching it into his bow, the stoat took aim at an enormous crevice in the rock face centering a primordial bay over the vermin's left shoulder. In one fluid motion, he drew back the fletch to his chin and released- the arrow hissed its call across the waters and echoed an alarm into the sea cave. Within moments of the arrow's warning, torchlight began to emulate from the darkness, its orange glow acting as a beacon for the ships, guiding them safely around the jetting rocks to sail into their home.

Fleanip turned back to the sea and held his spyglass up, watching for the ships to turn their rudders and pull up canvas to ride the current in. As they did, a slow smile crept onto the vermin's face as he sat back against the rocks and began to sing lowly to the sea breeze.

"Lo-ho, cast ta lines,  
Draw me back t' me home.  
Lo-ho, pull ye weight,  
Er else be lashed t' ye bones.  
Lo-ho, lo-ho!  
Ta night be dark when alone.  
Lo-ho, lo-ho!  
Ta waves o' thee Clap be ye home!"


End file.
